#.they’d have good balance and in my head they can both do weird sleeping schedules and like Kurt can either talk non stop or be as silent as

[uglysockperson]

Ok this came out ok anyway.... i like them.

[the-exicor-family]

CONTINUATION OF -> ♜

with -> @lured-into-wonderland

The two siblings did, indeed, notice Nunnally’s slight panic. Gwen noticed it a few moments before Cieran though, as they had grown accustomed to Nunnally’s breathing habits… Quite a weird thing to study and observe, but it wasn’t like they could help it. Observing things is the only way they’ve managed to survive this long of course. Seeing her panic like that did rouse some confusion— Was it something either of them said? Or perhaps someone else in the café? They couldn’t have been sure, but they considered all of the possibilities anyway.

Once Nunnally agreed to Cieran’s comments though, Gwen couldn’t help but avert their eyes. If their frustration was enough for even her to notice, then they were really losing it… But it isn’t as if they could hide it either. Gwen was getting close to their limit, that’s for sure.

They were about to run out of gas.

That’s to put it in simplest terms, anyway. Pushing themselves so hard with work, training, as well as their newly acquired school schedule, they were wearing themselves thin. The human body was only meant to be able to last three or four days without sleep, before it tries to shut itself down. Anything after that, the individual starts to hallucinate. Their cognitive functions cease, paranoia sets in, and in the —albeit rare— worst cases: maybe even death. Sure, the bodies of Exicor family were more evolved, and functioned differently than the rest of humanity, they were still human. And human rules apply to them.

But even so. Even with their immense workload, Gwen always made sure never to go more than eight days without at least two hours of sleep. Well, if you can even call what they do ‘sleep.’ No matter, this time they had gone ten days straight without an ounce of rest… They’d been worked to the bone, and had to hear that godforsaken man’s voice more than they wanted to. First the damned vampire bothered them at school, then he sent over documents, files, and even voice recordings for Gwen to decipher. The man can easily do all of this himself with the snap of a finger, but no… The bastard just had to toy with them. Their brain is running dry, and they wanted nothing more than to collapse right onto this table. They couldn’t rest, not yet anyway. The disguise they put on for themselves had worn off a little; their hair needed new dye, and a small amount of cutting. That was the whole reason Cieran made the trip here in the first place.

Without even realising, Gwen had spaced out during the remainder of Nunnally’s talking, and they were sure it was visible. Their eyes had gone blank, like they were seconds away from losing consciousness.

Cieran on the other hand, had payed attention well, while dedicating a part of his gaze to his brother. Shit… This didn’t look good. Honestly he would love to keep Nunnally for a few moments longer, observe her a bit more, but with Gwen about to shut down, he supposed her taking her leave was a good idea.

The both of them stood up with her, Cieran’s signature smile not leaving his face. If Gwen did collapse, he’d have no problem with carrying them. Besides, it’d be good for them to get a proper rest, so he would probably just kill time by walking around town for a bit, before heading back to their apartment.

“Well now. You go on that entire ramble about my brother needing to accept assistance, but now you’re trying to leave without asking for ours? I thought you were lost, little la-“

His tone would have been teasing, with an accusatory edge. Cieran had the right to be suspicious after all… Nunnally claimed to be lost when Gwen had asked her earlier, but now was trying to leave as if she knew her location. Whatever, that wasn’t what mattered right now.

Cieran’s hand quickly extended to rest on, a now unconscious, Gwen’s chest, balancing them so they didn’t slam into the table. With a frown and his eyes falling shut, he sighed before whispering to himself.

“Damn…”

Moving past where the girl stood, he manoeuvred his baby brother onto his back. The teen was lighter than he expected, had they been eating properly? Most likely not… They couldn’t take care of themselves even if their life depended on it. Hooking their arms around his neck, Cieran hoisted them up, resting his hands under their knees.

“‘M sorry. I thought they had more time, but I guess not. I’m sure ya were hoping for at least a farewell from ‘em.”

Good God his words sounded grim… Cieran spoke as if his brother just passed away. Granted Gwen might as well have passed on, with the way their body shut itself down. Their heartbeat slowed itself to an insane rate… Almost like hibernating rather than sleeping. Instead, Cieran simply looked towards Nunnally again.

“Where are ya going exactly? Ya did say you were lost, so it’d be dumb to simply walk off without knowing where your destination is.”

‘That is, if you really are lost.’ Cieran wanted to add, but didn’t. This was one of Gwen’s… Friends, that he was speaking to after all. Plus he hated unnecessary rudeness, so he wouldn’t push that onto others. The man simply waited for a response.

[therealvalkyrie]

Basil Part 1

Pairing/setting: Pro-hero!Bakugou Katsuki x Female!Reader

Summary: After bringing home Bakugou from a bar, you invite him to stay for breakfast.

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: swearing, kissing, mentions of sex, soft bakugou, aged up characters

AN: I’m sending it lmao. Figured I’d just drop this and go to sleeb, then maybe I’ll find the motivation to finish the second part tomorrow. We shall see!! Don’t forget to come tell me what you think:) Be kind to yourself and others!! ~valkyrie

Something different wakes you this morning. The familiar presence of your cat, Tonic, curled next to your head on the pillow isn’t it, and it’s not your alarm. You crack open a heavy eye and close your dry mouth. Judging by the pale cloudless sky visible through the window, it’s not time for you to get up yet. Was it a noise? A neighbor? A dream? You try to think back on what you’d been dreaming about in your sleep, but the visuals get hazier by the second as you blink lazily. The urge to stretch and your body washes over you quietly, achingly, and you start to roll onto your right side, away from the cat, only to be prevented by a body across your waist. Alarm jolts through you as you glance down. A head of disheveled blonde hair nuzzled into your side greets your gaze. Then, as your eyes slide down the very naked body attached to the hair, you remember.

Oh. Right.

It’s the man from the bar. The one with striking eyes and an attitude problem who nevertheless charmed his way into your pants with drinks and well-timed wit. It’s the man who tucked you under his arm as you giggled your way out of the bar, made out with you in the back of the taxi, and fucked you until you couldn’t think straight. Bakugou Katsuki.

The memory brings a lethargic smile to your dry lips and a warmth to the rest of your body as you experimentally ghost your fingers down his naked back. He looks tranquil here, torso rising and falling easily in sleep, arm thrown over your stomach, and head using your underboob as a pillow. Your sheets are bunched around your tangled legs but you still feel comfortably warm from his body heat. He’s practically like a furnace, skin hot and slightly sweaty on yours.

Eventually, after staring at him through soft eyes for what should be an embarrassingly long time (but really, you can’t find it in yourself to be ashamed, not when he’d devoured your body with his eyes the night before), you stretch your arms as much as you can without disturbing him and reach for your phone on the bedside table. The screen lights up as you tug out the charging cord, displaying the time (6:13) and a flurry of notifications from your girls’ night group chat. Scrolling lazily through without bothering to open the app, you read the conversation in reverse while tracing gentle circles on Bakugou’s toned back:

carolina, 6:00: ferny have u been murdered in the night

carolina, 5:59: i am alive…………………….barely

Then, it’s arguments and teasing about another friend, Ichika, leaving with a “short ass man,” in Carolina’s words, and then confirmations of everyone arriving safely home. So you weren’t the only one who left with someone last night? It makes you feel better about abandoning your friends. It wasn’t that they couldn’t take care of themselves, more that nights out with your girls were few and far between, given your hectic schedules. You know they wouldn’t hold it against you, but you were looking forward to spending time with them. Scroll, scroll, scroll.

carolina, 00:46: we want details in the morn😈

Mei, 00:45: in that case, take your time sweaty😘

Mei, 00:44: WHAT THE FUCK????

ichika, 00:44: Ground Zero??

Of course they’d discuss this, thirsty whores, you think, grinning. You knew who he was the second he leaned up against the bar next to you with a cocky smile and a pick-up line; it’s not like you’re completely oblivious, unlike Mei, even if you don’t generally keep up with the latest pro-hero gossip. And he didn’t let you forget it, either. Fresh heat rises up your neck as echoes of last night ring in your mind.

“Say it, baby, who’s fuckin’ you so good?”

“Y-you are!”

“And who am I?”

“Ground Ze-ero!”

The ghostly feeling of his fingers digging into your hips makes your thighs twitch together.

ichika, 00:44: omg no way

Mei, 00:44: who?

carolina, 00:44: of course i saw, that was motherfucking bakugou katsuki!!!!!!

Mei, 00:43: y’all see that smokeshow she left with? we won’t be hearin shit until tmrw

carolina, 00:41: or don’t;) we know you’re occupied

ichika, 00:41: lmk when you get home safe, love!!

When you’re finally caught up, you open your phone and type out a clumsy response with one thumb.

Ferny, 6:18: was not murdered, promise i will give deets later

Ferny, 6:18: he’s still here uwu

A low, sleepy grunt pulls your gaze from your phone screen and onto Bakugou. He’s finally stirring, nose pressing into the pudge of your stomach and body twisting further into the sheets.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” you murmur, locking your phone and tossing it back onto the nightstand.

His head jerks up and he looks momentarily caught off-balance, guarded, before he turns to look at your face and his expression softens.

“Mornin, beautiful,” he mumbles in a gravelly morning voice, pushing up the bed to press his lips to yours. Your cat mewls at the inconvenient shift in the pillow and brushes down your body to settle by your feet instead. Indulging for a moment in the soft glow of kissing him, your arms loop around his neck and his warm hand ghosts over your cheek, down your neck, across your clavicle. You let out a singular satisfied moan at the feeling of his bare chest against yours, then gently pull away.

“I have morning breath,” you complain with a pout. He only smirks devilishly.

“You taste alright to me,” he quips before sneaking another, faster kiss to your lips.

You squeal and push him back playfully with an indignant, “Bakugou!”

“Alright, alright,” he concedes defeat, flopping on his back next to you.

Finally, without his body practically pinning you to the mattress, you’re able to sit up and stretch satisfyingly. Your back gives a series of gratifying pops as you yawn and twist, and Bakugou makes an alarmed sound behind you.

“Jesus, you sound like fuckin bubblewrap! Is your back okay?”

“Oh, it’s fine! Always happens when I sleep funny.”

“I dunno, you should maybe get that checked out.”

“After coffee,” you agree noncommittally, then lean down to scoop Tonic from where he’d retreated on the end of the bed and extricate your legs from the tangle of sheets and blankets. “I just have to feed this little guy, and then I was thinking… breakfast? There’s a great bakery across the street.” You’re suddenly shy, voice breathier with the suggestion. 

The protocol you usually employ for one night stands is simple: if you’re at their apartment, make your excuses and skedaddle before anything more intimate like food can happen; if they’re at yours, make your excuses and kick them out before they start doing weird shit to your kitchen. But Bakugou feels different. There isn’t an ounce of regret or shame or embarrassment when you think back on the previous night, and the morning already feels intimate, with its lazy kisses and easy banter. You wouldn’t mind spending more time with him, but you can’t tell if he feels the same. Or if he’s waiting for an excuse to leave and get back to his life.

“Let me make you breakfast,” comes the unexpected reply, and you twist to look at him, eyebrows arched in surprise at both the acceptance of your invitation and his willingness to cook for you. He must mistake it for doubt, though, because he looks suddenly defensive, brow creasing in a frown. “Hey, I can cook, get that dumb look off your face!”

“No, no, that’s not it,” you placate, leaning back and into his side while cradling Tonic to your chest. “I’d love for you to make me breakfast.” You press a kiss to his shoulder as he loops his arm around yours and grumbles something too quiet to hear. “It’s just,” you mumble into his skin, “I don’t have much in the way of a stocked pantry.”

“What do you mean?” You glance up to meet his perplexed gaze.

“I mean, my roommate travels a lot for work and he’s more of a cook than I am,” you explain, not missing the way Bakugou tenses when you mention your male roommate. But he doesn’t say anything, just blinks down at your cat who’s spilled from your arms and across his chest like an uncontainable liquid. “Sorry” —you wince, trying and failing to scoop him back towards you— “he’s very affectionate.”

“S’okay,” he mutters, blinking twice more before focusing back on you. “Let’s at least see what you’ve got, I could probably whip something up.”

You shrug. “Well, okay. Might be a challenge.” At this, he chuckles darkly and narrows his eyes.

“I love a challenge.”

You giggle and push up to sitting again, legs dangling over the edge of the bed and Tonic cradled to your chest. “Alright, Gordon Ramsey, let’s take a look.”

Sauntering over to your closet, you can feel Bakugou’s gaze on you until he stands up as well and starts casting around for his clothes from the previous night.

“Oh,” you start as you reach for a hoodie from the top shelf, dragging his eyes back to you. “If you want some clean clothes, my ex left some stuff that’d fit you.”

He makes a choked sound behind you, then clears his throat. “Uhm, no. Thank you.” It’s strained, and he doesn’t say how he’d rather get food poisoning than wear the clothes of another man who fucked you. The thought makes his skin feel tight and sends an unfamiliar rush of jealousy through him.

You only shrug. “Suit yourself.”

You dress in comfortable silence, trying not to steal glances at his incredible abs while you do it. 

In the hallway, you point at a door, holding Tonic in your arms. “Bathroom’s through there, I think I should have a new toothbrush in the cupboard if you want. The kitchen’s this way, once you’re done.”

He grunts thanks and ducks through the door, flicking on the light switch as he goes.

It puts you slightly off-balance to be aware of someone else in your apartment as you feed Tonic and open up your living room curtains to let the morning sun stream in. You stand there for a moment, looking out over the city and willing your nerves to settle. You like Bakugou, you want him to stay. So just don’t fuck it up.

You hear the bathroom door close and take a deep breath.

In the kitchen, Bakugou stares at your empty cupboards and fridge for a long moment while you stand beside him, awkwardly rubbing your neck.

“What do you eat?” he barks in disbelief, turning to look at you like you’ve got two heads.

“Sunlight and water.”

“What?!”

“It’s my quirk! I, um, photosynthesize.” You cross the kitchen to one of your many plants, a large fern that spreads across half the wall. “Here,” you motion Bakugou over, kneeling down to touch the dirt in its planter. “Watch.”

Bakugou crouches next to you, a confused scowl still etched on his face, but nevertheless looks to where your fingers gently dig into the potting soil.

As you close your eyes and concentrate, pushing will out of your fingers, you feel the fern’s whole network of roots, stalks, and leaves, pulsing with the energy of life. Concentrating, you encourage it to flow towards you, splitting the dirt with a sprout. You allow a smile of satisfaction to split across your face when you hear Bakugou’s gasp of surprise when the sprout bursts into the air and unfurls.

You open your eyes to find his lips slightly parted in awe and his eyebrows raised where they’re normally pinched.

“I photosynthesize and make plants grow.” You lean forward to lightly stroke the little fern’s softly curling leaves. “I can still eat real food, though. It’s just cheaper to get some sun.”

Bakugou leans forward as well, one hand reaching hesitantly toward the fern.

“You did that?” He looks at you in awe.

You nod, smiling lightly. His eyes seem to search yours for a moment, then an air of contemplation crosses his face and he takes a breath.

“Can you do basil?”

[writingssummit]

𝐛𝐧𝐡𝐚 𝐚𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐬 !

bnha as dads!

find the haikyuu version here - haikyuu as dads !

content: fluff, the boys with children, mentions of pregnancy. aged up !

characters: midoriya, todoroki, kirishima, bakugou, 

a/n: ahh, look who’s back to writing once again. sorry to my new followers if posts are scattered from this point on, i’m trying to balance school and classes, the extra workloads are definitely a lot. but i like writing too much, so it might not even matter lol- welcome to chaos, guys. so uh, enjoy the boys as dads! 

midoriya !

okay, this guy would be so nervous on the topic of children.

don’t get me wrong, i know he’s strong and very very capable but you CANNOT tell me he isn’t at least somewhat scared about this.

like, he would want a kid but he could never bring himself to ask or talk about it. he’d get embarrassed, or loose his nerve.

when you guys do have the talk though, it’s a good conversation and you both are able to be very open about everything.

you always knew risks regarding being with Midoriya, and you were okay with it. it would work.

he slowly gains confidence throughout the pregnancy! 

this guy seems like a small family man. maybe 2 kids at most.

I don’t think he’d have a preference for gender.

he is determined to be there for the kid/s, he wants to be present (unlike his own father).

and the fact that he’s a pro-hero makes him worry all the time about that. :(( he’d be pretty busy.

which makes him a bit overbearing as the kid/s start to grow older to make up for when he’s not there, and they probably end up going to you about it.

so you have to talk it out with him ^^;

He honestly is just trying his hardest to not ever be absent. please- izuku

He will go to anything, do anything for his kid/s.

Performances, Recitals, Graduations (even the really lower years), all that.

The ones he can make, at least. 

I feel like the kid/s would love the fact that their dad was a pro hero, and he’s bashful around them for it. aww :)

He does his best to conceal himself a little when he goes out with the kids, just for safety reasons.

You already know Inko is such a good grandma

It’s like a double package

Good dad, good grandma <3

todoroki !

he honestly isn’t comfortable with big families. i’m sure you all know why :(

and to be honest, he’s really scared about being a parent. 

he also thinks that it’s not that logical considering his career

when you mention kids, he falls silent for a moment, which kind of makes you backpedal there

“Ah, nevermind, that’s a dumb question.”

“...I need to think about it.”

It’s okay bby, take your time <3

After that thinking, he decides that he does want to share a family with you!

But again, he’s not going to want a big family.

When your test is positive, all he does is just hold you. He’s happy for you both.

You guys have end up with one kid.

And oh lord, when he first lays eyes on them, he’s in love-

Dad switch turned on.

He’s always there, talking softly to the baby, watching over them, all that. 

He’s so soft and sweet with his interactions. sir- so precious omg

As the kid grows up, that’s when he starts to lose the confidence he had.

Todoroki is of course present, but he’s very hesitant with interactions every once in awhile.

You and him talk about it one night, where he ends up coming clean about what he’s been keeping inside.

“I’m worried I won’t be a good father.”

Todoroki :( my heart hurts

You tell him that he’s not like his own father at all, and you know that he’s a good guy.

“They love you, and you’re so good to them. You’ll never be like your dad, because you’re Shoto. A good man, and a good hero. I love you, okay?”

He needed that very badly

Your kid’s quirk develops and ends up being an ice related quirk.

He tries to show up to important events, and whenever he does, all the people are of course shook LMAO

I mean, Pro Hero Shoto is here ???

Natsu and Fuyumi are the best aunt and uncle, prove me wrong (please don’t JSJSjsj).

There are some things to overcome with him, but you’re always going to be there for him through it all <3 and he appreciates that.

bakugou !

OOOOO boy. Where do I begin with this man

He doesn’t hate kids, but mans probably doesn’t want them for real for real. Like, did you see how he handled those kids in highschool? LMAO

He comes around eventually, you don’t push it of course, but you know that you want to have a family with him.

He’s mellowed out in his older age, thankfully

He still has his spunk though, don’t get me wrong here!

Pregnancy test comes in positive when he’s on the job, and he doesn’t find out until he comes home really late, 

“The hell? Why didn’t you call??”

“I did, dumbass.”

He totally had his phone on silent nsjsjs he seems like that kind of guy to me

and he’s honestly kind of jittery, but whether or not it’s nerves or excitement? Who knows with this guy

You have to explain to him how taking care of kids work

You also have to discuss discipline, and he agrees that how his mother handled him wasn’t the best. So at least that’s taken care of

He encourages his kid/s all the time.

A show off parent, but the bragging type. 

PLEASE SIR. Your kids are great but please we need to talk about other things besides your boasting </3

He totally brags about them to Izuku. No cap. I don’t take criticism on this one

He ends up teaching the kid/s swear words (on accident, but it’s funny)

“Shit!”

o-o “Excuse me??”

An Bakugou is just on the sidelines, cackling while you’re just shook

“Katsuki!” You smack his arm

BUT. He gets the kids to bed on time. This man understands the importance of a sleep schedule. Thank god 

Once the kid/s quirk comes, he doesn’t want them to be like how he was when he was younger.

He gives praise, but he’s careful so it doesn’t get to their head.

He’s pretty much that loud, proud, rough dad who we all love <3

kirishima !

i am NOT biased, what?? totally not.

That being said, 10000/10 dad.

He’s the epitome of the perfect dad, okay? T^T I just know he is. It’s a gut feeling

He’s all for kids, he’s the one to talk to you about it first, actually!

Somewhat big family guy, maybe 3 kids? 

And when you agree that you’re ready, it’s amazing from there on out.

Almost.

When you’re pregnant, he then promptly has a small crisis

“I don’t think I can take care of a kid well enough” 

“What if they don’t like me?”

“What if -”

Kiri bby, don’t worry :((( they’d love you

After a lot of reassurance from you, he’s feeling a little better bout being a father.

He’s always supportive, always there for you and the kid/s.

Teaches the importance of drinking respect people juice. B) good job

And this mans is totally there for them all the time.

One time you found him curled up on the couch with your child after turning on some kids movie, and it was so cute omfg-

Another time he and the kid/s put on a whole damn concert and made you sit on the couch and watch. Adorable as hell 

“Dad, dad! Sing for mom!!”

They got him to SERENADE YOU. :’)

And it was the funniest yet sweetest thing ever.

It was with those weird microphone toys for kids, too LMAO

The kid/s always know about the newest thing Kiri has done, they’re constantly huddling around the TV and then when he comes home (or when they wake up and see him the next day), they ambush him with questions and give him so much praise, the man practically tears up.

Speaking of tearing up, he totally cried when they won an award or something 

Just- good dad. Mwuah. 

and that’s it for bnha! unless y’all want a part two, then i’m for it B) same for the haikyuu one. i hope you enjoyed these!! 

my requests/asks are open, so feel free to send something there, make sure to read my yay’s and nay’s for guidelines/rules!

ciao ~

[ellewords]

hey elle! i saw your answers for the questions i sent—i love coffee and cookie dough ice cream too! i’ve found that i like a lot of coffee-flavored stuff like ice cream, cake, and candy lol. i also really love cookies and cream! i’d say that’d be my favorite with coffee and cookie dough being VERY CLOSE seconds

BABY DON’T STOP IS ICONIC WHEW but may i propose....haikyuu boys dancing to it.......

anyways today i’ve got some headcanons for a past written on the margins question! first it was a karaoke party with the seijoh 4, and now it’s a road trip! aka you and iwaizumi are the only ones with any braincells in this godforsaken car (they make you handle the gps stuff since you’re the best with it). i can imagine each of them rotating and driving for a set number of hours or at least until they reach a rest stop, especially on long trips. whoever’s sitting shotgun (they rotate between this seat too) has control over the radio and aux cord and oikawa jokes that it’s the best part of going on road trips (but is he really joking though...)

makki and mattsun pretend to groan when you sit shotgun, but in actuality they don’t mind and will probably sing along to some of the songs you play (if there’s a rap part in the song currently playing everyone makes mattsun rap along i feel like his voice just fits it) while oikawa would be like UGH FINALLY SOMEONE WITH SOME MUSIC TASTE just to get a rise out of the other boys (but he really does think those kpop songs you blast lowkey slap he’s been listening to some of them while he works out or goes on his morning runs). iwa generally doesn’t have much of a preference but i can see him being partial to more upbeat songs to keep him or whoever’s driving awake, but even during slow songs the rest of you guys sing loud enough and chaotic enough to prevent anyone from getting any shut-eye (oikawa, makki, and mattsun dramatically act out a whole SAGA)

when you guys reach any rest stop makki is the first one out of the car and he makes a beeline towards the bathroom because he drank a lot of water during you guys’ impromptu karaoke session (gotta keep those vocal chords taken care of!). oikawa and mattsun are usually the ones in charge of getting snacks, they always end up getting a lot but they make sure to get everyone’s favorites! the amount of snacks they buy seems overkill but they’re athletic boys with voracious appetites and getting this many snacks ensures that the car is never short on food. if this is during or post-timeskip iwa is probably a little more strict on the snacks everyone eats (especially with regards to oikawa, being a professional athlete and all) but eventually decides to let up a bit—it’s not everyday he gets to go on a trip with his close friends, plus all those calories are gonna get burned right away once you guys reach your destination and go from place to place.

god help anyone who actually falls asleep in the car because oikawa and makki are taking photos of whoever’s sleeping with their phones AND with the polarioid camera you brought. despite this, though, everyone makes a conscious effort to be quieter when someone’s napping, and the volume of the radio is turned a bit lower. one of your favorite pictures on your phone is a selfie you took of everyone while you were sitting in the passenger seat: mattsun was driving at the time and though he wasn’t looking at the camera, a smile is on his face as he makes a peace sign with one hand; oikawa, iwa, and makki are sleeping in the back seats with oikawa and makki leaning on iwa’s shoulders (he lost a few rounds of rock paper scissors and had to sit in the middle). this also extends to when you’re asleep in the car as well—oikawa jokingly made his phone background a selfie of you leaning on his shoulder while napping (featuring a blurry iwaizumi at the side) but he actually finds it quite cute and doesn’t want to change it to his usually background quite yet.

it’s evening when you guys finally reach your hotel and everyone’s a bit tired from being cooped up in the car all day but surprisingly enough no one’s really sleepy because everyone at one point had the opportunity to nap on the way there. if you’re dating one of the boys the others DEFINITELY make you two take one room while the other three take the room adjacent to it. after everyone’s gotten ready for bed you’re all gathered in one of the hotel rolls just vibing on your phones and you and oikawa decide it’s the perfect time to bring out The Sheet Masks™️ that you kept in the cooler in the car during the trip so they’d remain cold. many more goofy photos of everyone with the masks on their faces are taken.

by this point it’s late at night and eventually you guys fall into having some nice, genuine heart-to-heart conversations. if this is during or post-timeskip everyone’s sharing what they’ve been up to ever since graduation or ever since you guys last saw/talked to each other. it’s just such a nice and comforting environment to be in because everyone’s a little tired from the day’s events and so it’s not as loud and boisterous, but at the same time this tiredness and it being nighttime means everyone’s filters are a little looser than usual and you could ask for advice on just about anything and everyone else would chime in with both lighthearted and actual suggestions. the boys are just SOFTER during this time like you could bring up how you’ve been getting back into something you did during high school (like playing piano or guitar or something) and they’d want you to show them videos or pictures of what you’ve been up to! maybe one boy brings up something that’s been worrying them for a while and you and the others are giving him words of encouragement while also cracking jokes. it’s just really chill and nice and everyone likes these late night talks because they bring you all a little closer.

everyone ends up sleeping in the same hotel room. you wake up sandwiched between oikawa and mattsun (oikawa’s got an arm thrown around you and mattsun’s long leggies are literally on top of yours and you wonder how you managed to sleep soundly last night) and iwa and makki are on the pull out sofa bed and you’re like Hey Guys. What The Heck (makki takes this opportunity to snap a photo of the three of you wrapped up in the bedcovers) and when you guys go to get breakfast at the hotel buffet it’s strangely quiet because almost everyone is still sleepy lol.

after getting some food in your system and getting ready for the day you’re all back to your usual energetic selves! you snap a mirror selfie of everyone gathered around the sink in one of the hotel rooms because oikawa was finishing getting ready (he takes the longest i just know it) and the other boys were just hanging around him talking about what’s planned for the day. the schedule you guys have isn’t super specific but there’s a few choice locations that you guys looked into in advance and try to visit no matter what! a day out with them is definitely filled with photos. you’ve got a lot of them in which they’re trying to recreate some funny pose in a picture oikawa saw online (like the one of nct in the ask i sent you earlier!!) and they either turn out really great or really horrible (funny) because you have a knack for taking photos where everything looks normal but someone’s face would be really blurry. but they would also try and take some really nice photos too—they’ll all even help you if you want to take some solo shots! oikawa and makki know the best angles for aesthetically pleasing photos, mattsun has a knack for taking panorama photos that look perfect, and iwaizumi’s really good at taking those types of photos of you guys jumping in the air without them looking weird. you’ve basically got four tall hypemen it’s great!!

overall i think it’d be so fun to go on a trip with them because it’s the perfect balance!! they’re chaotic clowns but they also won’t hesitate to give you a piggyback ride if your feet really hurt or if your shoes are giving you blisters (oikawa will try and make iwa give him a piggyback ride too, though). you guys end up getting a lot closer and having a TON of photos and inside jokes at the end of the trip, and though you’re all reluctant to go back, you also all know that this is only the beginning of a lot more outings together! if you take little clips of various events throughout the trip and compile them all together into a little vlog they’ll all probably watch it together through zoom or discord screenshare or something loool

THIS IS SO LONG take a shot (of water) every time i say one of the guys’ names or if i say “everyone” or some variation of it FJDJSNS seijoh 4 brainrot things am i right.....i hope you enjoyed reading this as much as i enjoyed writing and thinking of this! i think in the future i might think of stuff for if you go on a trip with the miya twins (and maybe suna too?).....hmmm hmmm hmmm!!! —🌸

— from elle ! i love this so so much >_< like literally what do i have to do to go on a road trip with the seijoh four??? it would be so much fun and chaotic and i want that for me,, i love them and their friendship so much it's insane ;-; anyways, thoughts + additions under the cut <33 thank you for this !!

everyone who isn't driving makes it their mission to annoy the one who is; whether it's through repeatedly poking their cheek, asking how long of the drive they have left, etc. the person who can last the longest in driver's seat would probably be iwaizumi, all his years playing volleyball with them as prepared him for this moment — but also looked up breathing exercises to avoid getting angry.

the best person to have riding shotgun would most be mattsun, especially when it's really late or super early ; keeps the conversation going and doesn't fall asleep, even when everyone in the backseat is. he shotguns energy drinks every hour or so.

i love the idea of oikawa, makki, and mattsun acting out a whole saga in the backseat omg !! in my head it's a song like taylor swift's love story wherein makki is the love interest, oikawa is taylor, and mattsun is like the dad who doesn't want them together. they really go all out on the acting — oikawa might have let out a couple of tears — and even iwa cracks a lil smile from the driver's seat.

awe timeskip!iwa watching out for everyone's diets ;-; but i do agree that he's gonna let up a bit considering that everyone doesn't see each other all the time. but i feel like he gives everyone the look™ every now and then despite this.

aw cmon don't hit me with oikawa making his background me leaning on his shoulder as i sleep that's so adorable i might cry :<< but other photos taken during naps include : iwa leaning on oikawa’s shoulder, makki sleeping with his eyes halfway-open ??? mattsun’s face covered in stickers that you impulse-bought at a random stopover.

sheet masks with the boys ??? yes pls !! though iwa would definitely be the type to almost wash his face after and oikawa screeched just before he was able to splash water on his face.

but late in the night heart to hearts ??? ugh, peak softness from the boys — everyone cries at some point because woah all of you really grew so much since high school and it made everyone feel all warm and tender.

but at some point, without thinking, and also bec it’s late and what does he have to lose, iwa just goes “you know, i had a crush on you when we were in high school” at yn and everyone just goes ?!?!?!?!?

yn : what the hell i had a crush on you ????

and oikawa’s just cackling in the background like, “i knew it !!!! both of you kept saying i was crazy for pushing it i feel so vindicated rn” 

meanwhile makki hands mattsun some money because they bet on it years ago and they were finally getting answers — makki thought you would confess first and mattsun thought it would be iwa ; several years too late but at least ;//

also i would just love to fall asleep in between oikawa and mattsun,,, please how do i get that

also on mattsun’s panoramas: everyone likes moving around a lot when he takes those photos and it’s the perfect mix of weird and cool because yeah there are like five makki’s but one of them looks like he has a third arm and a triangular head

and the vlog and we all get to watch it together over discord ???? that’s it, that’s what i want ;-;

tldr; I would give anything to go on a road trip with the seijoh four ;((

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

a question: what are the hq characters like on a road trip?  |  written on the margins masterlist

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[kuroopaisen]

Hi! Can i req kuroo falling in love with kenmas best friend?

this got super self-indulgent and super long (it’s about 3k), but,,, i hope you enjoy it!! i really loved writing it 

- admin rowan

they’d done it. they’d done the one thing most people thought was nigh impossible. 

they’d become friends with kozume kenma. 

kuroo stared at his phone, one eyebrow raised. sure enough, the message was there.

KENMA, 3:42 PM: i’m at the coffee shop. i’m meeting a friend for lunch

kenma. meeting a friend? for lunch? on campus? 

oh, he had to find out more. 

“so you’re meeting them for lunch, huh?” kuroo propped his chin up on his hand, grinning at kenma from across the table. the uni cafes tended to thin out in the later afternoon, which had made it the ideal time. this new friend of his might not have been able to encourage kenma to hang out with them if they’d arranged it for earlier in the day. 

“uh huh,” kenma murmured, eyes glued to his phone. 

“where’d you meet this friend of yours, then?” kuroo asked. all sorts of questions were bubbling in his mind. he didn’t know if he had enough time to ask them. 

“one of my electives,” kenma said. “we got paired up for an assignment. i thought it was going to be painful, but it wasn’t.” 

those words were pure poetry to kuroo. this was the first time he’d heard kenma even say something like that. 

truth be told, kuroo had been terrified that kenma would go his entire uni career without making a single friend. sure, it was only his first year, but that first semester hadn’t shown much promise. the uni volleyball team hadn’t quite… bonded yet either. not in the same way nekoma had. but that wasn’t a pain kuroo wanted to linger on in that moment. 

“so,” he hummed, “what are they like?”

he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t intrigued. kenma hadn’t made an active effort to be friends with anyone since middle school – the fact that he was going to lunch with them, of his own volition, felt like something kuroo’d have to note down in the history books. 

“they’re cool, i guess,” kenma shrugged.

kuroo pouted. he’d been hoping for a little more than that, but… 

“hi!” a voice rang out behind him. both he and kenma turned to look. 

there they stood, cheeks blindingly red and hands on their knees. 

“sorry i’m late,” they waved a hand at kenma, the other held to their chest. “i got lost, and this campus is far too large, and then someone asked me where the health center was, and–”

“it’s fine,” kenma said, his voice still soft. they stopped their tirade, trying to stand up straighter. “you should get some water.” 

“right!” they nodded. a flash, and they were gone, lost inside the coffee shop. 

kuroo bit back a smile. this was kenma’s new friend? he hadn’t expected someone so… flustered. 

“what?” kenma asked, eyes turned to kuroo. 

“nothing.” 

kenma narrowed his eyes ever so slightly. “don’t be lame.” 

kuroo gaped at him, one hand over his chest in mock offence. “whatever do you mean?” 

“you know exactly what i mean.” 

“i can’t believe they’re charging five dollars for a bottle of water,” they grumbled, appearing out of nowhere once again. both the boys looked up at them, face still flushed. 

“there are places to get free water,” kenma said. 

their expression dropped, but only for a moment. they shrugged. “too late, i suppose.” 

their eyes drifted over kuroo. he could’ve sworn their cheeks turned just turned a tad redder. “sorry, i didn’t really introduce myself, did i?”

“kuroo,” he nodded, looking them up and down. 

“oh, right,” they smiled. “i’ve heard a bit about you.”

a shit-eating grin crossed kuroo’s face as he turned to look at kenma. 

“none of it was good.” 

they bit the inside of their cheek, unsure about whether or not it’d be okay to laugh. 

kuroo just scoffed, raising an eyebrow at kenma. “after all i’ve done for you? you wound me.” 

“you’ll recover.” 

kuroo looked between the two of them, that same sly smile returning to his face. “well, i’ll leave you to it then,” he said, standing up to full height. their eyebrows raised ever so slightly – wow, he was tall. “you kids better not have too much fun, you hear me?”

they didn’t quite know how they felt about him referring to them as a ‘kid’, but they simply smiled at him. 

“it was nice to meet you!” they said, before immediately chastising themselves for their peppiness. god, you must seem so weird, they thought. 

kuroo grinned. “and you.”

and then, he was gone. they turned to look at kenma, tilting their head at him. “he’s that childhood friend of yours, right?”

kenma nodded. 

“huh,” they hummed, sitting themselves down in kuroo’s old seat. 

kenma didn’t talk about the people in his life with much embellishment, and he didn’t like being pushed to talk about them. but, this new friend of his had heard quite a few stories about kuroo; scant details that they’d managed to string together to form a loose idea of a person. they’d gotten the impression that he was a kind, grounding force, one that’d been there for most of kenma’s life.

he wasn’t what they’d expected.  

——–

to say the friendship between them and kuroo felt natural is an understatement. hell, the boy decided he was fond of them that day they met – they’d got kenma’s approval? kozume kenma, known recluse, engaged with them in meaningful ways? nothing had quite warmed the cockles of his heart like that in a while. 

and better yet, they and kenma had gotten close. they hung out a lot – or rather, they spent a lot of time at the apartment he and kuroo shared. and kuroo, nosey as he was, often crashed their time together. not that they or kenma minded; the atmosphere just always felt… right. 

and sooner rather than later, they started to go over explicitly with the intention of hanging out with both of them. as much as kenma loved the both of them, he could only deal with company for so long; but neither they nor kuroo were quite done with the conversation. they’d lost many a good night’s sleep to a long, drawn-out chat with kuroo. not that they minded. not with him. 

and that night looked like just another one of those, at first glance. 

they were both sat on the couch, their legs absentmindedly strewn over his. they couldn’t help it, really; he was just so long, and he’d decided he wanted to take up as much space as possible. mainly to piss them off. 

and, one of them was rambling on about something vaguely esoteric. this time, they’d dominated the conversation. they hadn’t planned to; it’s just that they were thinking about one of their classes that week, and it had all come flooding back. and kuroo, bless his soul, was humouring them. like he always did. 

“what, so there were eight distinct winds?” kuroo asked, tilting his head at them. 

“yeah,” they nodded. “each was it’s own, like… deity? and winds blowing from different directions would do different things to you.” 

kuroo raised an eyebrow. 

“this guy, vitruvius was saying that… well, wind would make you sick, right?”

“uh huh.”

“hot wind specifically would make you really sick.”

kuroo snorted. “why? isn’t it the other way around?”

“well…” they bit their lip, trying to simplify the needlessly convoluted concept in a matter of seconds. “the romans thought the body was made up of the four elements, right? but they thought they were heat, moisture, earth and air. and humans were supposed to have all four in balance, right? unlike fish which had like… no moisture, so they could live in water pretty easily.” they paused. “is this too much?”

kuroo shook his head. “nah. you look pretty into it.” 

they didn’t quite know what he meant by that, but he was smiling. they ignored that weird little buzzing in their stomach and moved on. 

“so anyway, getting too hot was supposed to make you weak and sick.” they didn’t quite know why they were going on about all this. it hadn’t even been a big component of their class that week; it was just a tidbit they’d found interesting. but, as always, they just kept talking. and talking. and talking. that was always the way, with kuroo. they wanted to tell him about everything. 

and half the time, it seemed to be the same thing for him. they’d heard a lot of scientific jargon they didn’t quite understand, no matter how well he explained them to them. 

“oh,” they held up a finger, their favourite fact of the week springing to mind, “they also thought that hot air made everyone horny.” 

there it was. that ugly cackle they’d grown so fond of. “what, really?”

they nodded. “and this was in the mediterranean, so… they would’ve lived through some pretty hot summers. with no air con.” 

“gross.” kuroo scrunched his nose up. they tried to ignore how cute that was. “sounds like a terrible time be horny, to be honest. you can’t be having a good time.” he looked up at the ceiling and away from you. “i’d make sure to have a fan around, at the very least.”

“did you really just say the equivalent to ‘sorry ancient romans, but i’m different’?”

“and if i did?” kuroo shot them one of his devilish grins. 

they had no retort to that. if they did try and throw a quip back at him, the conversation might get into a territory they weren’t quite ready to confront. 

“how’s your assessment going?” they asked. sure, it was an abrupt change of subject, but it was a safe one. 

kuroo groaned, his head falling even further back over the arm of the sofa. “don’t remind me.”

“sorry,” they grinned.

he sat back up with a grunt, his dark eyes narrowed. “i’ve been putting if off. volleyball practice has been my excuse, but…”

“did you get your pracs done, at least?”

“oh, yeah,” he waved a hand at them. “i got those done ages ago. it’s just writing the damn thing up.” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. he froze for a second, turning to look directly at them again. “i saw that care package, by the way.” kuroo’s eyes were much softer than usual. fond, even.

right, the care package. it was just a little something they’d put together for kenma; he had a particularly rough few weeks ahead, with awkwardly scheduled exams and assignments. he hadn’t seemed to be all that stressed about it, but they’d wanted to do something. he always got so… anxious after procrastinating for so long and even more neglectful when it came to his health.

“oh, that,” they waved a hand at kuroo, suddenly very self-conscious of how their legs were entangled. “i didn’t really expect him to use it, but…” they tilted their head to the side. “i hoped it’d remind him to take care of himself a little.” 

a gentle smile crossed kuroo’s face as he gazed at them. suddenly, they didn’t know where to look. 

“thank you for looking out for him.” 

the words left kuroo’s mouth before he’d really thought about them. but he meant it. he really did. 

they shook their head. “i haven’t really done anything worth thanking.”

“you know he hasn’t actively made a friend since middle school?” kuroo said, turning to look at them. 

they turned to him with wide eyes. 

“there were the guys on the team, of course, but…” he sighed. “i think that was more propinquity than anything else. can’t see him ending up friends with them otherwise.” he ran one hand through his hair. “well, there is that kid hinata, but other than that…”

“sounds like he’s made a few friends since middle school,” they smiled. 

kuroo chuckled. “well…” he bit the inside of his cheek. should he be having this conversation? was it wise? 

fuck it. 

“i just… i get worried about him,” he said, the words slurring together ever so slightly. 

“because he’s so reclusive?”

kuroo nodded. “i just… i want him to be okay, and i don’t want him to end up isolating himself, but…”

he couldn’t grasp the words. fuck, he hadn’t even drunk anything tonight. 

“he tends to hide himself away?” 

“exactly,” kuroo nodded. “i’m surprised he decided to come to uni, honestly. even if he wasn’t really academic at school or anything like that…” he sighed. “he still does really well, despite leaving everything to the last minute, but…”

“it’s not healthy,” they said. 

“yeah,” kuroo smiled, running a hand through his hair. “you get it. you always do.” he was looking at them again. 

he really was handsome. tall, broad, with a certain devil-may-care vibe that made it all look so effortless. it was a weird thing to think, but they enjoyed looking at him. not quite as much as they enjoyed spending time with him, though. 

oh. shit. 

it was like he was coming into clarity for the first time. this guy, who loved kenma so much, who looked after him and treated him with the respect he deserved. the same guy who just seemed to get them, to understand them so well even when their words were clumsy – and who genuinely listened whenever they rambled about whatever was on their mind. this guy who was such a nerd, and yet also some of the best company they’d had in a long while. 

they knew he was attractive the day they’d first met – hell, all they had to do was look at him to work that one out – but that’d just been physical. they’d never expected to actually catch feelings for him. 

and all that weird buzzing in their stomach made sense. all the nervousness, all the tension. 

shit. shit, shit, shit. 

“what’s wrong?” kuroo asked, raising an eyebrow at them. 

“hm?” they blinked. 

“you’re staring.”

“oh,” they swallowed, shamefully aware of the blush creeping across their cheeks. “nothing’s wrong, i was just… thinking.”

“about?”

“kenma,” they lied. 

“right,” he cleared his throat, breaking eye contact. 

they sighed, bringing their knees up to their chest. no point in denying it to themselves anymore – they had feelings for a certain kuroo tetsurou. 

“i’m tired,” they said, before really thinking about it. it wasn’t a total lie – it’d be a long week, after all – but they knew they’d said it more as an excuse to get away from him. part of them felt bad about it. 

but the other part of them knew that if they stayed here much longer, they might say something they’d regret. 

–—

kuroo shut his bedroom door with just a tad too much force. 

fuck. fuck. 

this entire time, he’d been teasing kenma about having a thing for them, but… 

fuck. 

he was a fucking idiot. 

of course he had feelings for them. there was no other way to explain any of it; how he looked forward to their visits just a bit too much, how making them laugh made his stomach feel a little funny, how they were the first person he wanted to talk to about the things that’d happened in his life…

and he’d had feelings for them for quite a while now. 

he’d wrote it all off for some stupid reason. something about being happy about getting along so well with kenma’s close friend. or simply the joy of being understood so well. 

but seeing them look at him like that, with such tenderness in their eyes… 

fuck, he’d thought about kissing them. 

and he couldn’t get that thought out of his head. 

was that out of line? was he betraying their friendship somehow, by thinking about them like this? 

he cared about them. a lot. regardless of these… romantic feelings. but would that get muddied? 

and what about kenma? what would happen if things didn’t quite work out? 

no, he was thinking too far ahead. he didn’t even know if they were interested in him. were they? a warm, fuzzy swelling burst in his chest at the thought. huh. he really was whipped, wasn’t he?

kuroo groaned, rubbing his eyes. it’d been a while since he’d worked himself up over something like this. he was getting carried away. 

this wasn’t going to go away overnight. nor would it be easy to ignore. no, it’d been spreading its roots for a long while now. 

he had faith that he’d be able to act normally around them, at the very least. but maybe it was wise to set some distance between the two of them, just for a while. 

–—

“you should just ask them out, you know.”

kuroo’s phone tumbled out of his hand. “what?”

kenma looked at him out the corner of his eye. “you know what i’m talking about.”

oh. kuroo tried to swallow the dryness in his throat. had he been that obvious? 

“you’re like a puppy. it’s weird.” 

kuroo stared at kenma for a long while. what on earth was he supposed to say to that? 

“i don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“they can tell you’ve been ignoring them, you know,” kenma said quietly. “they’re getting sad about it.”

an icy shock jolted through kuroo’s chest. shit, so they had noticed. he’d hoped that the chaos of the past few weeks would give him a good enough excuse to draw back without being too obvious about it. 

of course they’d notice. why was he being so stupid about all this? 

“i…” nope, nothing was coming. 

“if you’re worried about me, you shouldn’t be,” kenma continued, monotone as ever. “if you date and break up i’ll just hang out with them at their place.” 

“wow,” kuroo scoffed. “preparing for the end of the relationship before it’s even begun? you wound me, kenma.”

“so it’s going to happen then?” kenma said, not missing a beat.

kuroo narrowed his eyes at him. “do you want it to happen?”

kenma shrugged. “it’s got nothing to do with me. and maybe it’ll stop you being so lame.” 

that was the second time that afternoon that kenma had struck him dumb. 

kuroo sighed, running a hand through his hair. he was going to have to say something, wasn’t he? otherwise he was going to regret it.

[hartigays]

ooh if you’re still doing the fluff/angst prompts could you do 14 + harringrove? I love your writing and you could do something amazing with this 🖤

14. “Get your hands off of me!”

“harrington, what the hell are you doing?”

steve doesn’t answer, not bothering to look up. he’s focused intently on the row of dominos that he’s carefully setting up, his tongue poking out and his brow furrowed in concentration.

“voilà!” steve shouts, finally getting the last domino in place. he claps his hands and rubs them together in anticipation.

billy arches a brow, giving steve a bored look. but steve doesn’t pay him any mind, just tiptoes carefully over the dominos weaving around the living room of their apartment, kneeling down and counting backwards from three before setting them in motion.

it takes all of thirty seconds for the carefully constructed line to fall, but steve still looks at billy with a goofy smile, his eyebrows raised in question. as if to silently ask pretty cool, huh?

“oh, come on,” steve huffs at the unimpressed look billy levels him with. “that was at least kind of cool, admit it.”

“you spent three hours setting that up,” billy points out. “instead of taking out the trash. like i asked you to do earlier. three hours earlier, to be exact.”

it’s steve’s turn to roll his eyes. he spins on his heel and flops backward onto the couch. “whatever. time is arbitrary in quarantine.”

“don’t whatever me,” billy says with a sniff, examining his cuticles. “just clean it up before bed. i don’t want to come out here for water in the middle of the night and break my ass slipping on a fuckin’ domino.”

“fine, mom.” steve tosses a tennis ball in the air as he speaks, making faces at the ceiling like a child. “whatever you say.”

billy moves to lean over steve on the couch, flicking him on the forehead while flashing a toothy grin. “damn right.”

it’s been three weeks since the governor issued an official stay-at-home order. three weeks of binging netflix, playing video games, and scrolling through the same few social media apps over and over.

steve had grown antsy and stir-crazy by the end of week one, needing to find some new activity or another to occupy his mind and body to keep from going nuts.

billy, on the other hand, has kept himself busy with a stack of books about a mile high, and his at-home workout routines. steve’s also been eating better, given the amount of cooking billy’s been doing now that he’s home full time.

while steve bounces from one activity to another, restless and understimulated, billy seems to be transitioning easily into their new way of life, as he tends to do with most things.

steve is only a little bitter.

“how are you not bored out of your mind?” steve gripes. he tosses the tennis ball onto the armchair adjacent to the couch, already tired of it.

billy had moved into the kitchen, and he looks up from the cookbook he’d been flipping through. “i dunno. ‘s not so bad. i can sleep in now, cook dinner more. i even learned how to make paella recently.”

“the fuck is paella?” steve snorts, sitting up on his elbows to stare at billy over the back of the couch.

“it’s going to be dinner tonight,” billy says easily, shrugging. “it’s good, trust me.”

steve just shrugs, flopping back down and closing his eyes. he doesn’t care what billy puts in front of him - the less he has to cook, the better. it’s just not in his wheelhouse.

besides, billy is a natural cook. there hasn’t been anything he’s made that steve’s been unimpressed with. so he leaves billy to do his thing, pulling out his phone and scrolling through twitter, half-listening to the familiar sound of billy puttering around the kitchen.

steve spends a few hours going between napping and mindlessly scrolling through his phone. by the time he pushes himself off the couch with a yawn and a stretch, it’s already getting dark outside. he shuffles into the kitchen, following the delicious smells coming from within.

billy’s still cooking away, his brow furrowed in concentration. he’s stirring something on the stove, poring over the recipe in the cookbook before him. he looks incredibly in his element, moving about with ease, seamlessly transitioning from one task to the next.

steve doesn’t think it’s weird that he could watch billy do this all day. it’s always nice to see someone doing something they’re passionate about with such dedication. and if there’s a secret part of him that has an innate appreciation for billy in an apron, well.

sue him.

it’s not like finding billy attractive is anything new to steve. it’s the 21st century, steve tends not to dwell on those kinds of things. he doesn’t, however, feel the need to clue billy in to those particularly appreciative thoughts about him in his cooking attire.

they’re stuck in isolation together for the foreseeable future. there’s no sense in stirring up trouble or discomfort - they’ve got enough going on already. steve’s not-so-G-rated thoughts about billy and his apron aren’t between anyone but him and god himself.

he just admires from afar, trying to not indulge too often in his racy thoughts about his roommate, who also happens to be his long-time best friend.

it’s no secret, however, that those thoughts had been easier to ignore before, when they spent a large part of their days apart. billy would be at work or in class and steve could always be found guiding himself through his own busy schedule.

as university students, they’d had pretty chaotic lives before the world came to a grinding halt. they were both generally busy with their own lives, and steve had enough going on that he didn’t often have time to dwell on how his thoughts were increasingly crossing the line between friendship and something more.

and just because they’re now together 24/7, with all the time in the world for steve to confront the reality of his little predicament, it doesn’t mean steve is worried. not at all. not even a little bit.

steve has this silly idea that maybe if he says it enough times, he’ll start to believe it.

“smells good in here,” steve comments. he leans up against the counter next to the stove, peering over billy to sneak a peek at what he’s working on.

billy pauses his stirring, scooping a small portion of what looks like rice onto his spoon and holding it up to steve’s lips. he lets billy pop the bite into his mouth, his eyes lighting up at the burst of flavor that spreads across his tongue. whatever it is, it’s delicious. steve licks his lips appreciatively.

“yum.”

billy just nods, looking pleased. “it’ll be ready in about ten minutes. hey, grab me a beer, will you?”

steve grabs two beers from the fridge, passing one off to billy and cracking the other one open for himself. he heads back into the living room, curling back up on the couch and scrolling through netflix.

by the time he manages to find a documentary that they haven’t seen before, billy’s walking into the living room, balancing two plates in his hands. his beer is stuffed in the crook of his elbow, and steve sits up to grab the plate from billy before he can spill beer all over the floor.

“what’d you pick out?” billy asks once they dig in, nodding at the television.

steve swallows a mouthful of food, giving a satisfied hum of approval. “some new nature documentary. i think it’s about whales or sharks or something like that.”

“sounds like a real fleshed-out choice,” billy snorts, but he doesn’t object to steve’s selection.

“hey, you’re the one who’s always complaining that we waste so much time scrolling through the same stuff every day,” steve points out. “i’m just saving us the trouble.”

billy just huffs out a laugh before taking a swig of his beer. “i never said not having to scroll for an hour was a bad thing.”

the lapse into silence as the show starts, watching with meager interest as the intro credits begin. it’s quiet until steve takes a particularly delicious bite of his food, practically moaning around his spoon.

“this is delicious, by the way,” steve says, glancing over at billy. “what’d you say this is called?”

billy’s giving him a strange look, one that has steve’s cheeks heating up and the tips of his ears turning pink.

“paella,” billy answers finally, clearing this throat and averting his eyes

steve stares at billy for a moment longer, opening his mouth to speak before realizing he doesn’t even know what he wants to say, letting it fall shut again.

there’s a weird tension hanging between them for the rest of the night. steve tries not to fixate on it, but it’s hard when he’d picked out the most boring documentary in the history of time itself.

billy doesn’t even meet his eyes when he says goodnight later, after they’ve watched a few episodes and cleaned up the kitchen. steve can’t help but wonder if maybe he said something wrong without realizing it, watching billy retreat to the safety of his bedroom.

steve tosses and turns for most of the night, plagued by incredibly weird and startlingly vivid dreams. dreams about monsters that lurk in the shadows and kids with superpowers and bad men in their secret labs. similar to the ones he had back in high school, back when his life was turned inside out and upside down. only these are brighter, more intense, somehow weirder than before.

there’s a gasp dying on steve’s lips when he bolts upright in bed, the image of a hyper-realistic demogorgon with a decaying human face that he’s uncomfortably sure was barb’s still burned into his mind. he’s covered in a thin sheen of sweat, his stomach churning. his mouth is unbelievably dry, his tongue sticking to the roof of it.

steve pushes his sweat-matted hair from his forehead, climbing out of bed and padding into the kitchen. he gulps down two glasses of water, trying to will away the trembling of his hands.

it’s when he’s walking back to his room that he slips on something, crashing backward and busting his ass hard enough to knock the breath from his lungs. steve’s tailbone collides with the ground first, followed by his elbows, and then his head.

steve groans, pushing himself up off the ground. he feels lightheaded and disoriented, the back of his head throbbing something awful. distantly, steve hears what sounds like a door opening, followed by footsteps.

the hairs on the back of his neck stand straight up when someone crouches down beside him. steve can’t get his eyes to focus while he’s this dizzy and the room is this dark. he jumps nearly a foot in the air when a hand comes to rest on his shoulder.

“get your hands off of me!” steve yelps, smacking the mystery hands away from him and scooting across the floor to put distance between him and the body hovering next to him.

“hey, hey, steve, calm down, it’s just me. it’s just billy.”

steve squints through the darkness, his heart hammering in his chest. he can finally make out the defining features of the person that is most definitely billy, crouching in front of him and looking at him with a mixture of pure bewilderment and what he’s pretty sure is worry.

groaning, steve rubs the back of his head with a grimace. “ow...”

“told you to clean the damn dominos up,” billy mutters, sitting back on his heels as he tilts steve’s head down, examining the damage. “did you hit it hard?”

steve just nods, wincing as he does. “yeah. hit my ass and elbows harder, though.”

billy huffs out a soft laugh, taking steve’s bicep and lifting his arm to inspect his elbow.

“i think you’ll live,” billy says after a few moments, letting steve’s arm drop. “the hell were you doing wandering around the house in the dark at three in the morning, anyway?”

“i was getting some water,” steve tells him, rubbing his elbow with a frown. “i was having really weird dreams. i feel dizzy, are you sure i don’t have a concussion?”

billy shifts closer, trying to move steve’s mass of hair enough to look more closely at the lump on the back of his head.

“well, you’re not bleeding. if you have a concussion, it’s mild,” billy says with a shrug. “but i think you’re in the clear. what kind of dreams were they?”

steve doesn’t say anything for a moment before giving a halfhearted shrug. “same dreams i always have. they were just, like....super vivid this time, you know?”

“might’ve been the shellfish in the paella,” billy muses, humming thoughtfully. “certain foods can give you more vivid dreams, almost like fever dreams. shellfish are a pretty common culprit.”

billy takes one last look at the back of steve’s head before grabbing his hand, tugging him up off the ground. steve’s head swims once he’s upright, and he tips forward, crashing directly into billy. billy’s arms go around him immediately, holding him steady.

“you okay?” billy asks, his brows furrowed in concern.

steve blinks rapidly, his brain slowly catching up to the position he’s currently in. he feels the tips of his ears get hot, disentangling himself from billy and backing away, putting several feet of distance between them.

“yeah, i - um. sorry, that wasn’t intentional.”

steve averts his eyes, though billy’s stay trained on steve, that strange look from before back on his face. something shifts in his expression, billy giving him a thoughtful look.

“on second thought,” billy says finally, “you should crash in my room. so i can keep an eye on you. wouldn’t want you nursing a head injury alone, in case anything happens.”

“the hell do you mean, if anything happens?” steve questions, his hand flying up to the back of his head. he opens his mouth to ask another panicked question, but it closes quickly once he realizes what billy is offering. “wait, you mean you want me to stay with you? in your bed? like, together?”

“sure, if you want,” billy says, sounding casual while looking anything but. “you know, for safety.”

“for safety,” steve repeats slowly, swallowing thickly. “okay. okay, yeah. do you think i might need - um. mouth-to-mouth? for safety?”

steve’s heart is hammering in his chest before the question fully leaves his mouth. billy just stares at him for a long moment, before cracking a goofy grin, giving him a slightly disbelieving look. “steve, that is the corniest fucking thing you have ever said.”

“oh, shut up. i have a traumatic brain injury,” steve counters with an unimpressed sniff, trying to play it off like his heart doesn’t feel like it’s about to beat right out of his chest. “sue me.”

“right, your horrific bump on the head,” billy nods, fighting a smile. “guess you should come over here and let me take another look. for safety, of course.”

“safety’s very important,” steve acknowledges as he crosses the room, slowly putting one foot in front of the other.

steve stops short in front of billy, hesitating. billy closes the remaining distance, reaching up to gently feel the bump on the back of steve’s head, though his eyes never leave steve’s.

“that really is a nasty knot,” billy says offhandedly, a flicker of concern appearing in his eyes and disappearing just as quickly. “maybe some ice would help?”

“thought you were writing me a prescription for something else,” steve mumbles.

billy looks momentarily confused, before steve closes the distance and seals their lips together. billy yields almost instantaneously, his mouth opening to steve as if they’ve done this a million times before.

now that he’s face-to-face with it, steve isn’t sure how he was able to dance around it for so long. billy’s lips are soft and pliant beneath his, and he kisses steve languidly, like they have all the time in the world and he knows it. he has one hand curled into steve’s hair, the other splayed across his jaw. when billy nips at steve’s bottom lip, it sends sparks skittering down steve’s spine and goosebumps erupting across his skin.

all steve can see, smell, and taste is billy and he’s dizzy with it, unsteady on his feet. which could be attributed in part to steve’s little bump on the head, but he pushes that thought to the back of his mind to worry about later. he sways a little, causing their mouths to break apart. billy takes steve’s hand keeping him steady.

“c’mon, let’s get you to bed,” billy says, his breathing a little ragged. “you can get the full hargrove treatment in the morning, when you’re not borderline concussed.”

“you’re the one who’s getting a medical degree,” steve protests, even as billy pulls him to his bedroom. “i was just following the doctor’s orders.”

“right, well. this doctor is ordering you to lay down and get some sleep,” billy counters. he helps steve climb into bed, scooting in next to him once steve has slid over to give him some room.

billy lets steve wrap himself around him like a koala without protest, only humming softly in approval.

“maybe quarantine’s not so bad,” steve muses after a few beats of silence, yawning.

“you’re just saying that because you get to kiss me every day now.”

“that so?” steve asks, chuckling softly. “guess that means i should get some sleep so i can be well-rested for a big day of kisses tomorrow.”

“go to sleep, harrington,” billy snorts, burying his face into steve’s neck.

“‘night billy.”

“sweet dreams, princess.”

[maryqueenofmurder]

Impulse x Grian x Ren

Part 1:  Impulse x Grian x Ren

Part 2:  Impulse x Grian x Ren

Part 3:  Impulse x Grian x Ren

Part 4:  Impulse x Grian x Ren

Part 5:  Impulse x Grian x Ren

Part 6:  Impulse x Grian x Ren

News about the new couple and how they got together spread quickly. Hermits would thank and congratulate Impulse on finally setting up the two. Somehow it didn’t feel as good as he thought it would.

Impulse had been feeling down recently. That was why he was sitting on top of Tek To The Skies at five AM. Ren and Grian had been the epitome of a happy couple since they got together, and it was starting to grate on his nerves. It felt like there was a pit in his stomach that he couldn’t get rid of.

Impulse had started avoiding the hippie camp when he could. He’d miss out on campfire sessions by showing up late or not at all. When he was at the hippie camp, he’d work on his redstone projects. Since Grian and Ren were so caught up with each other, progress had been slowing. They couldn’t afford to let Area 77 get ahead, or they may never catch up.

This had all been taking a toll on Impulse’s health, mental and physical. He never had the best sleep schedule, but he was perpetually tired now.  Balancing all his projects was never easy, and he had to make sure they were perfect, as the tiniest mistake in redstone could render the whole thing inoperable. He was irritable from missing his friends and lack of sleep.  Impulse had been spending more time with Tango and Zedaph recently.

Despite trying to avoid the hippie camp, Ren, and Grian as best he could, Impulse kept ending back up there. He tried to tell himself that he was just avoiding the suspicion that would come with not showing up, and that he needed to keep Area 77 on its toes, but really he just missed his hippie friends too much to stay away for too long.

Impulse heard the faint sounds of rockets, which grew louder. Tango landed nearby Tek to the Skies, and walked towards. He was probably going to restock it. Impulse debated saying hi. It didn’t matter what he decided, because Tango caught sight of him.

Tango got closer to the shop, glanced up, continued walking, then did an impressive double take. As it was, Impulse barely cracked a small smile. Tango backpedaled, then stared at him for a moment.

“If you’re waiting for a certain builder to get his supply of rockets, I’m afraid you’re a few days too early.” Tango called up.

“Nah,” Impulse said. “I’m just sitting up here.” Tango frowned. He flew up top and sat down next to Impulse. Tango kicked his legs slightly, before leaning back.

“What’s wrong?” Tango asked.

“Nothing’s wrong.” Impulse objected. Tango snorted.

“Which is why you’re sitting up here at five in the morning.” Tango said.

“You’re here at five in the morning.” Impulse said.

“I am restocking. You are just sitting here.” Tango said.

“Just. Feeling weird, that’s all.” Impulse admitted.

“Are you sick?” Tango asked, leaning away slightly.

“No. Feeling weird emotionally.” Impulse said.

“Okay. Let’s see if we can sort some of these feelings out.” Tango said. Impulse nodded hesitantly. “Okay. How about the whole Hippies versus Area 77 thing you guys have got going on?”

“I don’t think Doc and Scar should take other people’s property.” Impulse stated immediately. Tango raised an eyebrow. “It does make things kind of awkward when we run into each other.” Impulse admitted.

“I’ve noticed that you’re doing a lot of redstone projects. Well, a lot of redstone projects for the amount of other things you’re doing as well. Maybe you’re overstressed from that?” Tango suggested.

“I am stressed, yeah, but I’ve been stressed before, and this? This isn’t it.” Impulse said.

“What about Ren and Grian getting together?” Tango asked. He was determined to get to the bottom of Impulse’s troubles!

“They make me feel kind of sad, but happy? Bittersweet, maybe.” Impulse sighed. “Just. Weird.”

“Sounds a lot like someone’s jealous~” Tango snickered.

“I mean yeah, kinda. I’m worried that… that they won’t have time for me anymore, now that they’re dating.” Impulse said slowly.

Tango sat forward. “Don’t think like that. They may be in the honeymoon phase of their relationship, but they’ll still have time for you. Even if they get a bit caught up in each other. You might have to third wheel for a bit, but it’ll be fine.” He reassured Impulse.

“I just- We have to redefine the boundaries in our friendship now. Whether we’re friends first and lovers second or not. Will they need time to be together without me? I don’t want to intrude, or mess things up and lose them.” Impulse was distressed, and spilled his troubles to Tango like water from an upturned pitcher.

“Hey, what’s the matter? You didn’t act like that when Zed and I got together… Did you? Did you just hide it from us?” Tango was disturbed and worried that Impulse had been hurting and he -they- didn’t notice.

“No, I didn’t. I guess I was more… assured? Does that make sense? I knew that you guys wouldn’t exclude me, you just had something else with each other that wasn’t friendship. Unless you guys had the mother of all blowouts or something then we’d all be friends, even if you two broke up. I haven’t known Grian and Ren for as long, so I’m worried their relationship might break our friendship. Or that I might, with all my weird feelings about them.” Impulse confessed, worried.

“Okay. Let’s start with the weird feelings part. Do they make you nervous?” People were usually nervous around crushes, Tango told himself, and, well, Impulse did seem to be crushing a bit.

“No. Not usually. Sometimes one or both of them will do something that makes me flustered, like Ren grabbing my hand, or Grian’s smile, but they don’t often make me nervous.  It feels nice to be around them.”  Impulse said, smiling the whole time.

He is head over heels. Tango mused. The strength of Impulse’s feelings surprised him, even though he thought there would be something there.

 “It’s probably because they’re hot.” Impulse mentioned offhandedly.

That blunt comment threw Tango for a loop. For a second all he could do was stare at Impulse, dumbfounded. It also, unfortunately, caused his internal monologue to briefly become his outer monologue.

“What!?” Tango squeaked. Impulse had outright admitted that he found them hot. Was he seriously that oblivious?

Impulse gave him an odd look.

“I’m comfortable enough in my own sexuality to say that they’re hot. I’m bi, not blind. That’s probably why I get nervous around them sometimes.” Impulse said.

“Well, how do you feel about them, then?” Tango asked another question, just to confirm.

“I just feel comfortable with them. Like I could be open and vulnerable, and they’d protect me. It feels like we fit together so well, like three parts of the same whole. Like I’ve known them for a long time.” Impulse admitted.  His lips unconsciously formed a grin.

“Well, Impulse, that sounds a lot like a crush.” Tango said. Hopefully Impulse will be receptive to the idea, if I say it bluntly enough.

“I don’t know, I want to hold their hands, and cuddle, and listen to them talk. About their day, the things that interest them, their ridiculous flirting I would love to take part in-” His eyes widened.

“I do have a crush on them. Ugh.” He buried his face in his hands. “Why. This is awful.”

“It can’t be that bad, Impulse.” Tango said concernedly.

“I set my two crushes up together. My two crushes are dating. I am going to be so awkward around them that they’ll eventually decide I’m too weird and gradually stop talking to me and the Hippie Camp will fall apart and I’ll never see them again-” Impulse had started spiraling at this point.

“Hey. Calm down. You know they wouldn’t do that to you.” Tango placed a hand on Impulse’s back. “Breathe.”

Impulse sucked in a heavy breath. “You’re right,” He muttered. “I need to have faith in them.” Tango pulls Impulse into a hug, holding him close, and Impulse finally breaks down. Later he’d have to face what he’d done and figure out what to do next, but for now he was content just to cry in Tango’s arms.

[quickspinner]

Second Chance - Ch 7 Why Wait

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8

“Luka.”

“Nngh.” 

“Lukaaaa.”

“Hnh?” 

“Wake up so I can kiss you goodbye, you jerk.”

“It’s the weekend, where are you even going?” he mumbled. 

“Brunch with my parents. Are you sure you don’t want to come?”

“Marinette,” he moaned. “Your parents are amazing, you’re amazing, you’re gorgeous, I’m so in love with you, but that concert last night killed me. I’ll beg their forgiveness later, but please, please, please just let me sleep.”

He couldn’t see her pouting, but somehow he knew she was. Too tired to question whether one could hear a pout, Luka raised up with only one eye open, pressed a kiss in the general vicinity of her mouth, and then buried his face in the pillow with a groan. Even so, he smiled as he felt her soft lips on his bare shoulder.  

“I love you too, vampire boyfriend,” she teased. 

“Love you,” he muttered as he pulled the blanket over his head to hide his grin. He was too tired to be this happy, damnit.

***

Having Marinette there when he woke was one of Luka’s favorite things about the weekend, so he may have done a little pouting himself when he dragged out of bed. Luka had tried adjusting his hours a bit to make more time with her, and had been moderately successful until his next round of scheduled performances, which quickly put him back on night owl hours. 

Still, they made it work, and the last few months had seen a great deal of improvement in Luka’s life, even with Marinette now working more standard hours. She’d declined to work with Adrien at Gabriel, and had negotiated a very favorable contract with another major design house, but she still had to work when everyone else was working. Luka had plenty to fill his time when she wasn’t around, especially with tour season quickly approaching, but he’d also taken Marinette’s advice and devoted more time to his personal life outside of her.

He’d started getting together with Ivan every few weeks, and he’d been drawn into Marinette’s circle of friends as well. Adrien has been by to see them a few times with minimal awkwardness. They’d had dinner several times with Alya and Nino, and as Nino also had a career in music that frequently meant he worked odd hours, he and Luka had struck up the beginnings of a friendship outside of their girls. Anarka was back in Paris, and she always had time to see him when he was bored or frustrated, or when he just wanted to get away from the reporters who’d been dogging him ever since his relationship went public. Luka secretly loved watching his mother tell off the paparazzi who had the audacity to set up around her boat, just before she cast off and left them on the bank as she sailed them out of reach, her booming laugh echoing across the water. 

He’d found more of a balance, just as Marinette had suggested, and Luka felt much better for it. Lucille took the dip in his efficiency in stride, even though it made managing his schedule more work. “You couldn’t keep the pace you were on forever,” she’d said briskly when he’d apologized. “It’s fine for you to be human, especially if it means you’re writing more songs.”

He was, he had almost a full album’s worth of tracks at least partially written, and the ones he’d demoed for the producers had been well received. At home, Marinette had helped him turn his apartment into something more personal and comfortable for them both. The windows now sported curtains Marinette had sewed herself, dark blue in his bedroom and cheerful red in the living room. There were throw pillows on the couch and leafy, living plants here and there (Marinette promised to help him keep these alive). A knit blanket lay over the back of the couch whenever they weren’t wrapped in it. Framed prints of Luka’s album covers were artfully hung in the living room, and pictures of friends and family were scattered on the walls of the hallways and bedroom. 

Technically, Marinette didn’t live with him, but the distinction at this point was a fine one. His spare bedroom was littered with her projects. The clothes she wore most often were in his closet and dresser. Her cosmetics competed for space with his in the vanity and there was a neat row of sweet-smelling bottles with pictures of flowers and fruit on them lined up along his bathtub. His kitchen cabinets housed at least half her collection of mugs that she had picked up in the various places she had visited, most handmade or hand painted and all far more colorful than anything he owned.

Most importantly, Marinette slept in his bed almost every night, allowing them to take advantage of every mutually convenient moment in their very different schedules. Maybe he couldn’t wake up with her and maybe she was almost always asleep when he came to bed, but Lucille worked his schedule to keep their overlapping hours open, or at least booked with tasks he could do at home. 

Luka sank down on the couch, leaning back into the soft blanket, and tried really hard not to think about the tour starting in...crap, it was barely a month now. He sighed and let his head fall back with a little groan. He got homesick on tour at the best of times. It was going to be even harder now. He smiled at the ceiling. At least he’d have something really worth coming home to.

Luka perked up at the sound of a key in the door.

“You haven’t even gotten up the energy to make coffee yet?” Marinette teased when she saw him. “You really are tired. Fear not, your savior has arrived.” She waggled a large to go cup at him.

“God, I love you,” Luka sighed, reaching his arms toward her. She came to him and perched on his knee, kissed him, and offered him the coffee. 

“I have pastries too if you’re hungry.”

“Mm,” Luka took the coffee, but nuzzled into her neck. “I’d rather have woken up with you, but I’ll take it.”

“I gave you the chance to wake up with me and you begged me to let you sleep.”

“You know what I meant. How are your parents?”

“Same as always,” she smiled brightly. “How was the show? You were too wiped out when you got home to tell me. This was the benefit show for the children’s hospital, right? The one Rose works with?”

“Yeah. It was amazing,” Luka shook his head. “So much energy in the crowd, it felt fantastic. Pretty emotional, though, with the speakers and all, so I really just had nothing left when it was over.” He sighed. “Those people are amazing. There was so much strength—“ he stopped, choked up, and cleared his throat. “It was a lot,” he finished thickly.

Marinette kissed him softly, giving him a tender look, and then got off his lap, heading for the kitchen. “We can take it easy today if you want. Do you have to work?” 

“First weekend of the month is fan mail weekend,” he reminded her, accepting the plate and napkin she brought him. “So, yes, but I can work around whatever else we decide to do.” Marinette put the box of pastries on the coffee table near him, and then pulled out her sketchbook. She settled with her back against the arm of the couch and her feet in his lap. 

“I don’t mind. You know I think it’s great that you make time to answer your fan mail.”

How is this my life? Luka wondered as he selected a pastry and put it on his plate. It was good, it was comfortable, it was right, and Luka was suddenly struck by the thought that he never wanted it to end. 

Luka didn’t realize how he was staring at her until Marinette spoke. 

“What are you thinking about so hard?” Marinette asked him without looking up from her sketchbook.

“I want to marry you.”

Marinette straightened and set her pencil down to look at him. She didn’t whip her her head up and stare wide-eyed, which he took as a good sign, so he set his plate down on the coffee table and continued.

“I love you and there’s no doubt in my mind that you’re the one I want to be with. I want this—“ he motioned between them, “—all the time, forever. So I’d like to know how you feel about it. If it’s something you think you might want someday too.”

Marinette rapped a fingernail on her sketchbook. “Someday?”

“Or today.” Luka quipped with a shrug. “I’m sure we could make that happen.” He was mostly kidding, but his eyes widened slightly as Marinette frowned and pulled out her phone. He waited, a weird feeling curling in his stomach as she swiped and scrolled and chewed her lip. 

Then she looked up at him and his pulse shot up so rapidly that he nearly didn’t hear her over the pounding. 

“I’m sorry, can you say that again?” he managed. 

“I said I don’t think today will work, but we can do next Friday. I think everyone we’d need is free.”

Luka could barely breathe as he stared at her. “You want to get married next Friday?”

Marinette smirked at his expression. “Yep.”

Her smirk softened at the smile that bloomed on his face. Luka leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees. “Who are you and what have you done with Marinette queen-of-overthinking Dupain-Cheng?”

She mimicked his pose, leaning in until her nose was nearly brushing his. “She doesn’t live here anymore. Meet the new resident, Marinette not-stupid-enough-to-miss-her-second-chance Couffaine.” 

He nearly tackled her in his enthusiasm to kiss her. Marinette shoved him off, laughing. “We don’t have time for kissing, we’ve got phone calls to make.”

“Right.” He whipped out his phone. “Lucille! Hey, listen, Marinette and I are getting married next Friday. Call her in an hour and whatever she wants, you make it happen. If you get stuck on anything, call Penny. In fact, call Penny anyway and tell her she and Jagged are invited.”

“Oh,” Lucille said blankly, and then “Oh! Yes, okay. Um, budget?”

“Break the bank, I don’t care. Just don’t kill anyone, don’t get anyone fired, and try not to make too many threats. Okay?” He grinned at Marinette, who had her own phone to her ear but still heard enough to wrinkle her nose at him.

“You take all the fun out of everything.” Lucille drawled.

“You’re the best, Lu, I’ll call you later and check in.”

“How much does she hate me?” Marinette asked in a whisper, holding her own phone at arm’s length while Alya screamed. 

“She wasn’t even phased. She lives for stuff like this.” Luka grinned. “It’s good for her resume. And I’ve been so low maintenance that I’ve earned a few outrageous demands.” He kissed her temple. “I’ve gotta go.” 

“What? Where are you going?” 

“Gonna grab Juleka and go find a ring.”

“What? Luka, you don’t have to do that, it’s barely two weeks, I don’t need a ring.”

He leaned in and kissed her, caressing her face tenderly. “I’m gonna do it anyway. Unless you want to come pick it out?”

“No,” Marinette said faintly, “No, whatever you pick is fine, just—don’t go overboard.”

He kissed her again. “Okay. But when Lucille calls, you tell her what you want and don’t worry about the money.” Another kiss, and Luka giggled against her lips. “I’ve never been able to say that before. I want you to have the wedding of your dreams even if it is on short notice.”

“Isn’t there anything you want?” Marinette asked, looking concerned.

“I want you, Marinette,” he breathed, and then grinned. “I want to dance with you. I want my guitar and an amp handy. I’d really like to not wear a tie, I hate those things. But mostly I just want you there and as happy as you can possibly be. Everything else is negotiable.”

“Oh my God, girl,” Alya screeched over the phone. “I take back everything I just said, marry that boy pronto.”

Luka laughed. “Hi Alya! Bye Alya!” He kissed Marinette one more time, grabbed his jacket, headed out of his door and straight over to Juleka’s, and pounded a little more forcefully than was probably necessary. Rose opened the door, looking surprised. 

“Luka, what's going on? Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine, Rose,” he said, smiling like his face would split. He leaned past her and hollered, “Jules! Get decent and get out here, I need to go buy Marinette a ring and you’re coming with me.”

Rose squealed, covering her mouth with her hands. Luka winked at her. “You’re welcome to come too, Rose.”

“That’s amazing Luka, I’m so happy for you!” She threw her arms around his neck. “Oh! Have you planned how you’re going to ask her?”

“Already did. We’re getting married next Friday.” His brow furrowed. “Shit, I better call Maman.”

Rose just gaped at him with her mouth open. Then she screeched and ran back into the apartment, screaming for Juleka. Luka chuckled and stepped inside, shutting the door. He pulled out his phone and called his mother. Anarka sounded simultaneously exasperated and delighted, but she promised to be there and that was all Luka cared about. By the time he was off the phone with her, Juleka had emerged, dressed in nondescript black without her usual lace accents, her hair pulled back in a knot that hid most of the color and her purple tipped bangs tucked under a hat. She said nothing, just wrapped her arms around him. He folded around her and returned the hug. When they separated, she reached up and smacked the back of his head, then walked out the door without looking back to see if he and Rose were following.

“The press is going to be all over you,” Juleka mumbled as they got in the car. “They’ve been staking out the building ever since that premier. They’re going to follow us.”

Luka made a face. “Yeah, I know. I’m hoping we can make it look like we’re shopping for you, but if they do, they do. Lucille will have to find a way to keep them off my back.”

“With the tour about to kick off, they’re going to say it’s a publicity stunt,” Juleka persisted, looking sideways at him.

“I don’t care what they say, never have.”

“They’ll probably dig up whatever they can about Marinette. Probably your old girlfriends, too.”

Luka shrugged. “Everyone has a past, it doesn’t matter. As long as none of them show up at the wedding I couldn’t care less.”

“Marinette might care.”

“I’ll talk to her about it when we get home.” He hesitated. “Although I guess we didn’t really talk about—” he stopped and pulled out his phone.

Marinette picked up immediately. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he replied, unable to help smiling at the sound of her voice. “Listen, before I do this I just wanna make sure, you know the press is going to get wind of this right? Even if I manage to cover up what I’m doing, something is bound to leak if we do this in a hurry.”

“I suppose you’re right, but at least they’ll only have a couple weeks to freak out. Better than planning a wedding for months under that kind of scrutiny.”

“You’re right. We should probably just make a statement,” Luka mused. “I’ll talk to Lucille about putting one out once you’ve talked to everyone you need to. I just wanted to make sure you were okay with everything because the second I walk into a jewelry store, there are going to be rumors, even if we try to make it look like we’re shopping for Juleka.”

“I told you you didn’t have to.”

“You’re not cheating me out of getting to do this just because you’re impatient,” Luka told her, laughing. 

“I didn’t expect you to be so traditional,” Marinette giggled. 

“I’m not,” Luka chuckled. “Keep the traditions that make you happy, throw the rest out, I don’t care. But this one makes me happy, so I’m doing it and you can’t stop me. I mean, I guess you could decide not to wear it, I’d survive. But I still want to pick one out and give it to you. If you don’t want to wear it I guess we could frame it and hang it on the wall or something.”

Marinette’s laugh was rich and full and brought a dopey grin to his face that he knew he would catch hell for later. “I’ll wear it,” she giggled. “I will. Whatever makes you happy, Luka.”

“You make me happy,” he told her, ignoring his companions as Juleka made gagging noises and Rose shushed her, giggling.

***

When Luka got home carrying a tiny pretentious bag full of fancy tissue paper, he found Marinette waiting on him with a strange looking box on the coffee table and a “we need to talk” expression. His excitement turned to ice in his stomach and he came into the room a little warily. “Hey. Something up?” 

Marinette smiled tightly. “Nothing disastrous. Just a conversation we need to have before we go through with this whole thing. I figured we’d better do it now before we let Lucille loose on Paris.”

Luka frowned. “Okay. You know, I’m ready any time, but I can wait, we don’t have to rush into this if you’re not—”

“I am,” Marinette interrupted him. “But I need to make sure you are too, and that can’t be true until we’ve talked about this. Come sit down.” She patted the couch next to her.

Luka sat, eyeing the box on the table. “Please tell me these aren’t the ashes of your enemies. That would be a little creepy.”

Marinette laughed and patted his hand. “Not hardly.” Marinette leaned forward and did something to the box. A series of compartments opened seemingly on their own, revealing...jewelry? He glanced at her, still puzzled, until she lifted a familiar green bracelet from the box and his eyes widened.

It had been nearly seven years since the defeat of Hawkmoth—not a terribly long time in the span of global history, but Luka found now that trying to remember those days was like trying to remember a dream. The bracelet Marinette held was the one point of clarity. Luka remembered what it was and what it did, but had a hard time remembering why it mattered.

“The Miraculous magic,” Marinette told him matter-of-factly, watching his expressions shift. “It doesn’t actually erase anything that happened, or any record of it happening, it just makes it hard to think about. If you tried hard enough, and long enough, you would still remember everything.You’d just be easily distracted and constantly wondering what the point is of trying to remember. It’s been a real blessing for people whose akumatizations were especially difficult, and even more so for Adrien.”

Luka blinked at her for a moment, and then gasped. “Adrien’s father was Hawkmoth.” 

Marinette nodded, and then shrugged. “Thanks to the magic, people forget. Or rather, as I said, they just don’t think about it. He hasn’t faced nearly as much persecution as he would have otherwise. Here, it’ll be easier to have this discussion once I give you this.”

She put the bracelet in his hand and he was nearly blinded by a flash of blue-green light. The slight fog in his mind cleared instantly, the clarity suddenly flooding back into his thoughts. Luka remembered everything now. He blinked away tears from the light and the rush of memories and stared into familiar yellow eyes. “Sass,” he breathed.

“Ssssalutationsss, Luka,” the snake kwami smiled, showing his tiny fangs. “My how you’ve grown. Humansss change ssso quickly.” He put his flipper hands on Luka’s finger. “It isss good to sssee you, my friend.” 

“Luka Couffaine,” Marinette intoned quietly. “I present to you the Miraculous of the snake, which gives the power of Second Chance. You will use it for the greater good, and for the protection of the Miracle Box and its Guardian.” She smiled and shrugged. “That would be me.” 

Luka looked up from the bracelet in his hand. “Thank you, Ladybug.”

Marinette’s smile widened. “You knew the whole time, didn’t you?” 

“I guessed,” he admitted. “I wasn’t ever totally sure, but I figured it was safer that way.” He rubbed his forehead. “I don’t know how I’d forgotten until now.”

Marinette raised her hands slightly. “Magic.” 

“Right.” Luka shook his head. “Weird.” He slid the bracelet over his arm, watching in mild surprise as it flashed and turned into a silver band decorated with Celtic knotwork. “It’s different,” he observed.

“The disssguise adaptsss,” Sass agreed. “You are different now, so the disssguise isss different.”

“Huh. That design, though, it’s almost as if—.” Luka reached into the little bag full of tissue paper he’d left at his feet, and pulled out a small box. Marinette’s eyes widened, and, regaining some of his earlier enthusiasm, Luka felt a goofy, lovesick smile spread over his face as he opened the little box, and held the wrist bearing the snake Miraculous up next to the ring. The little platinum ring had a repeating Celtic knot pattern around the band and a small but beautiful channel-set sapphire in the center. The Miraculous bore a similar knot pattern repeating across the bracelet.

“Oh,” Marinette gasped lightly. Luka took the ring out of the box and took Marinette’s hand. 

“May I?” he asked tenderly, and she beamed at him. 

“Yes.”

Luka slid the ring on her finger. “I thought you would prefer something flat.” He grinned at her. “See, I’m not as traditional as you think. I liked it so much that I had them reserve the matching wedding bands for us, but you don’t like them, we can go pick something else together.”

“It’s perfect, I love it,” Marinette breathed, smiling up at him. “And this is a good thing,” she added, picking up his arm to look at the bracelet, and then holding her own hand next to it to compare it to her ring. “Since it matches, if anyone asks, it was my engagement gift to you. That gives you an excuse to always have it on you.” She smiled. “It’s sort of true, anyway.”

“Sort of true?”

“Well, like I said, I figured I needed to talk to you about this before we really went through with things,” Marinette sighed. “And Tikki and I agreed that if we’re going to make a home and a family together, you should be protected, and empowered to protect us, so...” She waved a hand at the bracelet.

“Tikki?” Luka asked, feeling rather overwhelmed.

“Tikki,” Marinette called, and a tiny red kwami zipped up from her side to haven between them. “Luka, meet Tikki, the kwami of creation,” Marinette gestured. “She’s the source of that energy you kept noticing, by the way.”

“That’s only partially true,” Tikki interjected. “Marinette has a strong creative spirit on her own, which makes her very well suited to be Ladybug. The resonance you feel is because we’re so closely attuned.” She smiled, zipping close to examine Luka’s face. “You wouldn’t be able to sense it at all if you weren’t a true creative spirit too.”

Sass hissed a quiet laugh and perched on his shoulder, tail curling around Luka’s neck. “Don’t get greedy, Tikki. Thisss one isss mine.” Tikki rolled her eyes, giggling, and zipped back to Marinette.

“So, if you haven’t changed your mind after learning about all this unexpected craziness that comes attached to me,” Marinette was trying to be positive, he could tell, but there was still an edge of apprehension in her smile. “The bracelet is yours.” 

“Of course I haven’t,” Luka exclaimed, putting his hand on hers. “I mean, I’m not saying this all isn’t kind of heavy, and it makes me nervous that we’re—that I’m in the public eye so much. But if you’re okay with this, then so am I. I trust your judgement.”

Marinette flipped her hair. “I plan to be famous with or without you, mister rock star, so don’t go playing the martyr.” She smiled at him and squeezed his hand. “We’ll make it work. Just like everything else. The butterfly and the peacock have been recovered and repaired, there’s no reason for anyone to come after the Miraculous now that the magic is nudging people’s thoughts away from it, and no one but Adrien knows I was Ladybug, so no one would even know where to start looking. We should be fine, this is just a precaution.”

Luka blinked at her for a moment, putting things together. “Adrien is Chat Noir,” he said after a moment. Sass chuckled from his shoulder. 

“Yep,” Marinette smiled. “It’s the only Miraculous not in my possession. I couldn’t bear to take Plagg from him after everything that happened. Most of the kwamis prefer to stay in the Miracle Box unless they have a bearer, but sometimes they like to come out and have a chat and they’ll probably all want to meet you sooner or later, so just be prepared and try not to scream.” She narrowed her eyes slightly and pointed a finger at Sass and Tikki. “And you tell them the bedroom is a kwami-free zone, got it? Divine being or not, the first kwami that interrupts us is going to find themselves sealed in their Miraculous and dropped to the bottom of the Seine.”

Luka blushed as the kwamis tittered.

“So, uh…” Luka rubbed a hand through his hair, dropping his chin to his chest as he tried to process. “You got any more bombs to drop on me?”

“This was the big one,” Marinette giggled. “Nothing else but the usual stuff left. Money, living arrangements, future plans, kids.” She paused. “You’re okay with kids, right?”

Luka’s head snapped up and he stared at her, wide-eyed. “You want to have children...with me?”

Marinette sat back slightly and she blinked at him. “I mean, not right now, but in a few years, yeah. Is that...not something you want?”

Luka was having trouble processing. “It’s...honestly not something I thought I could have.”

She tilted her head. “Why not?”

“I’m...I didn’t...I mean, I haven’t exactly had the best example. Or...any example, really.” Luka rubbed a hand through his hair sheepishly. “I mean it sounds kind of stupid when I say it out loud, but I guess that’s always how I felt in the back of my mind. I guess I’ve never been serious enough with anyone to give it any real thought.” 

Marinette relaxed a little, and though there was still tension in her forehead, her eyes were soft. “Why wouldn’t anyone think you’d make a great dad? You’re kind, thoughtful, committed, gentle, respectful, supportive, protective. I could go on. Any daughter would be lucky to have you for a father,” she said, taking his hand and squeezing it. “And I can’t think of anyone I’d rather have teaching my sons how to be kind, compassionate, respectful men.” 

Shit, he was going to cry and he still couldn’t look away from her. 

“And if it helps, you’ll have a father now. My father. I know he’d be thrilled if you asked his advice. Most importantly,” she said, leaning in, “You have a huge heart and so much love to give. I know you’ll be fine. And when the time comes, we’ll figure it out together.”

Luka was reminded of his own words to Ivan and smiled faintly.

“But is that what you want, Luka?” Marinette squeezed his hand. “That’s kind of an important question.”

“I—yes, absolutely,” he breathed. A little girl with his eyes and Marinette’s smile and a too-big guitar in her arms, or a little boy covered in flour as he learned how to make bread from his grandparents—he’d never thought about it before but now that he had, he absolutely wanted it. 

Marinette relaxed, and her smile turned blinding. “Good.”

For a moment, they just looked at each other, and then Luka took her face in his hands and kissed her—or started to, before realizing his abrupt movement had tumbled Sass off his shoulder. Luka had completely forgotten the kwamis were there. He’d also forgotten they could float, he nearly knocked Marinette in the face as he scrambled to catch Sass, who caught himself and levitated, chuckling at Luka’s floundering and apologies.

“He’s fine,” Marinette reassured Luka, laughing, and then she grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him back to her lips. “And so am I. Come back here, already.”

The tittering kwamis made a discreet retreat as the newly engaged couple embraced.  

***

The rest of the day was consumed with phone calls and a lot of screaming. The next day, Marinette wasted no time getting moved in for good. Luka had a stupid grin on his face the whole day and didn’t make even the slightest effort to hide it.

“I don’t know why you’re so excited,” Marinette giggled. “I practically lived here anyway. The only real difference is now I have to find somewhere to put all my crap.”

“It’s an important difference,” Luka protested. “And I know even though I told you to feel at home, you still think of this as my place.”

“It is—was your place.”

“And now it’s really our place, and that’s why it matters,” Luka told her, and then he sighed. “I almost wish we could get a new place that we picked out together,” he mused. 

“Luka, this apartment is amazing, it’s perfect for what you need, and you love it,” Marinette said practically. “I’ll fit myself in, you’ll see.”

“You shouldn’t have to fit yourself in around me, though.” Luka rubbed the back of his neck. “It doesn’t seem fair.”

“Stop worrying about it, Luka,” Marinette told him, picking up a pile of clothes and carrying them into the bedroom. “You’ll be gone on tour for months, remember? That’s plenty of time for me to get rid of your stuff.” 

Luka huffed a laugh at that. Nope, there was no wiping the stupid grin off his face and it was pointless to try.

A knock on his door startled him, and he and Marinette looked at each other. 

“Juleka?” Marinette suggested.

Luka shook his head and got up to answer the door. “She’s shooting a new cosmetic ad this week, and Rose always goes with her when she’s got to be on camera. Maybe a delivery? Usually security calls me first though.”

Marinette shrugged and picked up another pile of clothes to carry to the bedroom. 

Luka opened the door and blinked, momentarily speechless.

“Hey,” Adrien grinned, hands in his pockets. “I brought Marinette a wedding present.” There was a small knot of people behind him with expressions of longsuffering and a bright red ribbon tied around the whole group with a big bow. Luka glanced over them in puzzlement, and then, recognizing a couple of faces, he turned and called into the apartment.

“Marinette? I think you’d better take this delivery personally.”

“What?” Marinette’s voice came from his bedroom. 

“Come on out here.”

She came, but pouting. “Luka, I still have so much to do.”

Luka just stepped aside and opened the door wide. Marinette stopped and went pale as she took in the scene. Then she looked at Adrien. “What did you do?” she asked flatly.

“A little bird told me you were making an exception on your stupid polciy about wearing your own designs for the wedding,” Adrien said with a flicker of a smile. “I thought you might need a little help with your dress, given your frankly insane timeline.” Marinette stared at him, and Adrien quickly added, “And before you go off on me, I’m paying them, and they volunteered.”

“They won’t even all fit in here!” Marinette gasped, and Adrien chuckled and tossed her a key. Her hand snapped up to catch it, proving her superhero retirement hadn’t diminished her reflexes in the least. 

“They come with a workspace,” Adrien said smugly. He raised a cautionary finger at Luka. “You’re not allowed. No peeking before the big day.”

“I think I can handle it,” Luka said wryly. He smiled at Marinette’s still gobsmacked expression and kissed her cheek. “I’ll go in the bedroom so you can haul out all those supplies I know you bought without me watching.” He held out a fist to Adrien. “Thanks Adrien.” 

“Congratulations, Luka.” Adrien bumped his fist with a bittersweet smile that Luka couldn’t really fault him for.

Luka looked at Francis in the middle of the group. “Make sure she takes breaks to eat for me, okay?” Francis nodded vigorously.

Marinette made a few more inarticulate noises that ended in a huge hug for Adrien and as Luka retreated to the bedroom, he could hear her giving orders to get that stupid ribbon off those poor people, what is wrong with you, you big dork?

***

The next few days were...weird. Luka was walking on a cloud most of the time, going through the motions of his everyday routine with giddy disregard for what he was actually doing, only really tuning in to answer questions periodically from Marinette and Lucille about wedding arrangements or preferences. Even the press mobs didn’t bother him as much as usual, as tedious as it was to have to have his bodyguards follow him around everywhere he went just so he could get in the door. He made time to have dinner with Marinette and Tom and Sabine, letting the warmth of their happiness flow over him. He took Marinette to have breakfast on the boat with Anarka, too. They got on as well as they ever had in that ‘live and let live’ way that both of them shared. 

However, having little tiny flying creatures pop up at random was a little unsettling even when he knew it was coming. Most of them were perfectly pleasant little...god-things. Some of them were more eccentric than others. The ones who hadn’t gotten out of the box much were zipping all over the apartment, fascinated especially with Luka’s music gear. He shared a cup of tea with Wayzz and Sass, and Wayzz answered some of his questions about what it meant for Marinette to be the Guardian. Trixx was perfectly pleasant to speak to, but rearranged Luka’s pick collection while no one was looking. Duusu popped up in his studio and they had a little jam session, Duusu dancing manically in the air while Luka shredded. Kaalki examined Luka’s album covers and awards and proclaimed him sufficiently exceptional. Sass and Tikki together had to chase Xuppu back into the Miracle Box, and that was a trip and a half, watching them zip around phasing through anything in their way, before Tikki had sufficiently intimidated Xuppu from causing any further chaos. One afternoon he opened his eyes from his meditation and found a small circle of tiny gods gathered around him, mirroring his meditation pose.

“They like you,” Marinette confided in him one night, sliding behind him on the couch and draping herself over his back. “They say you have good energy, and they like your music. Kwamis sing, you know?”

“Really?” Luka lifted his eyebrows slightly.

“Yes, when they’re separated, they do some kind of magic singing to connect with each other.” She nuzzled his neck affectionately. “The novelty will wear off in a while and they won’t be around so much.”

“I don’t mind,” Luka said, picking a few notes thoughtfully on the guitar. “They’re cute, and mostly they’re just...there. It’s a bit strange, but I’ll get used to it.” He leaned his head back to press his cheek against her hair. 

He’d grown to love playing with her wrapped around his back. Sometimes he played whatever she requested. Sometimes he played her the sappiest love songs he could think of, until they lost themselves in laughter and kisses. But her song was still his favorite, being tuned in completely to her, playing for the sheer joy of it, with her pressed close against him, silent and still except for her quiet breath and soft touches against his skin.

“I love you,” he said softly, smiling as he played.

“I love you too.”

“I’m gonna marry you, weird entourage of tiny god-fairies and all.”

“I’m so lucky,” Marinette sighed, and he sensed the shift in her emotion even before he heard her voice go rough and her arms tighten around him. “I’m so lucky, Luka. I love you so much. I almost wish I could just marry you in the morning, but my parents would kill me and Lucille would probably have an aneurysm if we changed the plans at this point.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Luka sighed contentedly, turning his face to nuzzle and kiss her cheek. “We can make it.” 

***

The next day, Sass was asleep on Luka’s amp in a small nest of soft fiber scraps pilfered from Marinette’s workroom. The snake kwami found the vibrations soothing, which was convenient, Luka thought, since he spent so much time playing. Suddenly Sass stirred and sat up, and gave a smile that was somehow gentle despite the fangs. “Nooroo. Welcome, friend.” 

Luka looked up but saw nothing. 

“There isss no need for fear,” Sass said soothingly. “Pleassse join usss.”

A small purple face peeped around the door frame. The kwami eyed Sass, and then turned his eyes to Luka. He shrank back behind the door when he saw Luka’s gaze on him. The edge of a butterfly wing visible over Nooroo’s shoulder explained a lot, and Luka’s eyes widened slightly.

“Hello,” Luka said as gently as he could. “You can come in if you want. You’re very welcome here.” Nooroo didn’t move, and Luka went back to his guitar, playing something soft and soothing, watching out of the corner of his eye but trying not to be too obvious about it. 

“I know you can sssensse him,” Luka heard Sass say. “You know you have nothing to fear. But if you are not ready, we will not take offenssse.”

Another moment, and the butterfly kwami slipped inside, skirting the wall toward Sass’s nest.

“He feels gentle,” Nooroo said, very quietly, as he settled next to Sass.

“He isss,” Sass soothed, curling his tail protectively around his friend. “Ressst, if you like. You are sssafe here.”

Nooroo cuddled up next to Sass, his tiny expression enough to break Luka’s heart. “Safe,” he murmured, a little doubtfully.

Luka swallowed hard. He couldn’t imagine what the kwami suffered at the hands of Hawkmoth. Luka was empathetic by nature and practice, and that could be painful enough in the wrong situations, but Nooroo literally sensed emotion. To be forced to feel out the worst emotions he could find day after day must have been incredibly painful. Not to mention serving Gabriel Agreste was no picnic. One only had to look at Adrien’s issues to imagine how much worse it would be for a creature Gabriel believed to be nothing more than a tool. No wonder Nooroo had preferred the quiet, passionless world of the Miracle Box for years after Gabriel’s defeat.

Luka wondered if the kwami could feel his pity, and tried to decide what would be the most soothing for him. After a moment of thought, Luka began to play an old Scottish lullaby from his childhood, one that he associated with warmth and safety and his mother’s boundless love. He darted a glance at Sass and the little snake gave a tiny nod of approval. 

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been playing before Marinette appeared in the doorway, looking concerned. “You okay?” she asked softly. “You usually play that when you’re upset.”

“Fine,” Luka smiled at her. “Just felt like relaxing a bit.” He flicked his eyes toward the kwami nest. She followed his gaze.

“Nooroo,” Marinette said, face lighting up. “I’m glad to see you.”

Nooroo shrank into himself a bit. “Thank you, Guardian. I felt it would at least be polite to meet your intended.” He paused, looking between Luka and Marinette with a thoughtful expression. “I have seen great love twisted into selfishness and isolation,” Nooroo said solemnly. “But this is a soft love, a...generous love. It makes room for many. It is...good.”  

Luka smiled. “There’s room for you too, Nooroo, whenever you feel the need of it. You’re always welcome.”

Nooroo nodded. “Thank you.”

“I’ll leave you to it,” Marinette smiled, and blew him a kiss. Tikki slipped around her to join Sass and Nooroo. Tikki hugged the butterfly and Sass patted his friend gently. Between the two of them, he seemed to relax a bit more. Luka smiled to himself. 

Yeah, it was a little weird, but when in his life had he ever been “normal” anyway?

***

The two weeks somehow went slow and fast all at once. Luka remembered the feeling well; he’d felt the same in the last few weeks before his first tour. 

Friday morning saw their apartment invaded by a horde of women. Alya, Sabine, Rose, and Juleka took Marinette over to the girls’ apartment to get ready, leaving Luka to the tender mercies of his mother to make sure that he was ready and presentable on time. Luka rolled his eyes and refrained from pointing out that it was Marinette who had the reputation for chronic lateness, and that Anarka was the last person he would have picked to enforce order.

Still, he was glad Anarka was there. She went straight for his music studio and picked up his guitar, playing old tunes he remembered from his childhood. It soothed his jitters a little bit. It wasn’t that Luka was nervous or afraid exactly, he just...wanted to get on with it. He wanted to marry Marinette.

“It’s my wedding day,” he said softly to the mirror, just to make it real. “I’m marrying Marinette today.”

“You are,” Sass agreed, hovering beside him. “Are you ready?”

“So ready,” sighed Luka. “More than ready. Why can’t we already be married ready.”

It still felt surreal as he mechanically dressed himself. His suit had been provided by Marinette’s employer, as a bribe to let Marinette off work early for all the things that had to be done over the last couple of weeks, and for the wedding today, but Marinette had done the fittings herself, so it looked impeccable on him. It included a vest, but as he had requested, no tie. 

“All right, let’s have a look at ye,” Anarka said, stumping around him. “Can’t be having you looking sloppy for yer bride, eh?” When she had circled him twice, brushed some imaginary dust from his shoulder, she sighed and said, “Well, I guess yer grown up after all, me boy.” 

“I love you, Maman,” he said, smiling fondly at her, pretending he hadn’t seen her eyes watering behind her glasses. She returned the smile in kind, and then hugged him tight. 

“Come on,” she said. “Play with yer old Maman for a bit. Those girls’ll be forever getting ready, and you’ll just fret if ye do nothing.”

“That sounds great, Maman,” Luka said with relief, going to retrieve his old guitar.

They played duets until Juleka came to tell them that Marinette and the car were ready. The original Couffaines indulged in a quick group hug, and then Luka hugged them each individually again. 

“You’ll get wrinkled,” Juleka chided in a mumble. She looked up at him and he looked back at her and for a long moment they were silent. She didn’t need to speak for him to know how happy she was for him, and how relieved, and how much she wished for his happiness. He didn’t have to say anything for her to know how much he loved her and that he would always take care of her and that she would always be his sister.

“Come on,” she said at last, voice thick. “Let’s go get you married.”

Lucille took a step forward from where she stood by the door, clipboard in hand. “I sent everybody else down to the cars already so you two can have a moment. We’ll be waiting for you downstairs.”

For practicality’s sake, the couple and their witnesses were all going to City Hall together in the limo, while the others went ahead to the reception. Lucille ushered Juleka and Anarka our and to the elevator, leaving Luka alone. 

Well. Not quite alone. Suddenly there was a small floating rainbow of tiny gods stretched across his living room. “We give you all the blessings we can bestow on this day,” Wayzz spoke for them.

“Oh, it’s so beautiful!” cried Duusu, darting back and forth in her excitement. “Love is so beautiful!”

“Thanks, friends,” Luka smiled. “Really.” Wayzz nodded, and the kwamis zipped back out of the room, except for Sass, who took his place in Luka’s pocket.

Luka crossed the hall to Juleka’s apartment and stood there for a moment, just trying to breathe, outside the door. 

“She isss the sssame woman you loved yesssterday,” Sass said quietly, peeping out from his pocket. 

“Yeah,” Luka said with a lopsided smile. “But now she’s all dressed up and we’re getting married.”

The kwami chuckled. “Indeed.”

“Okay,” Luka said, feeling his breathing speed up in spite of himself. “Okay, here we go.” He knocked on the door, and then let himself in. 

“Marinette?” he called softly.

“In here,” she answered, and he went a little further into the apartment. She was standing in the light of the living room window, nearly glowing in her fitted white dress, her modest train artfully arranged behind her. Her hair was elaborately piled up and adorned with a tiara that he recognized as Rose’s. Her miraculous was in her ears, of course, and the blue seaglass pendant lay against her collarbone. 

Marinette smiled with trembling lips. “They posed me like a statue and made me promise not to move until you came in.”

“You look stunning,” he told her honestly. “I’m almost afraid to touch you.” 

She held her hands out to him and he quickly crossed the room to take them. “You’re shaking,” he observed.

“I’m going to lose my mind if we don’t do this soon,” she admitted, and they laughed together.

Luka raised her fingers to his lips and kissed all of them reverently. “Then let’s go, before we both fall to pieces,” he said, offering her his arm. 

***

The ride to City Hall was a blur. All he remembered was Marinette’s fingers gripping his as tightly as he held hers. 

Once they stepped inside, everything seemed to go in fast forward until he heard the mayor say, “I now pronounce you husband and wife.” 

The words gave Luka a swooping feeling in his stomach and his knees went weak. He looked at Marinette and she met his eyes with the same awed look on her face. Then they both broke into huge smiles and threw their arms around each other. Luka sighed deeply as he hugged her, the butterflies in his stomach disappearing into a profound sense of relief that felt like stepping into his apartment for the first time after a three-month tour. ”I love you,” he whispered into her hair, and felt her snuggle closer. Then she lifted her face and he kissed her reverently. The mayor had to clear his throat before Luka could manage to let her go. As soon as he did, she was enveloped by her parents. Luka wiped his eyes discreetly as Lucille shuffled them off to another room, and chuckled when he saw Juleka doing the same. 

Heaven help them if the world ever found out what a bunch of softies the Couffaines were under their punk-goth-pirate exteriors.

Juleka hugged Marinette and gave Luka a wicked smile over his new wife’s shoulder. “Marinette’s my favorite,” Juleka told him smugly. Luka just laughed and put his arms around the both of them, kissing each on the top of her head, and then turned to give Rose the same treatment. The moment he turned away from her he was caught up into the most epic bear hug of his life courtesy of Tom. He’d have laughed again if he could get enough air. Sabine pounced as soon as Tom set his feet back on the ground, and damn if the small woman didn’t hug him almost as hard as Tom. 

“Whew,” Luka put his hand on his chest when Sabine released him and grinned at Marinette. At his wife. “I’m going to have to step up my hug game now that I’m part of the family.”  

Marinette giggled and moved toward him, but Juleka caught her arm. “Nuh-uh. We’ve got a party to get to and if you go over there now it’ll take a crowbar to separate you.” She spun Marinette towards the door. “Let me remind you that Maman is waiting, and keeping Maman waiting with nothing to entertain her is unwise.”  

Rose gasped and Luka winced. “She’s right, we better go,” he admitted, offering his hand—to his wife.   

“If we must,” Marinette sighed, but she was smiling brightly as she put her hand in his. “I suppose your adoring fans and annoying followers are waiting for us too.”

Luka grinned at her. “Just this once, shall we give them what they want?”

Marinette flashed him a grin. “Lead the way, husband.” He had to grab her up and kiss her for that, much to Lucille’s frustration, and it took another minute to get her smoothed back out and camera ready. 

Luka didn’t make the least effort to hide his joy or his love for Marinette as they emerged from City Hall into the bright morning light and cascade of camera clicks together, hand in hand. He wanted everyone to see it. They smiled and waved, and Luka bent Marinette back (not into a full dip this time, just enough to make the folds of her dress fall in elegant points toward the ground, like they’d practiced) and kissed her tenderly. Then he bent down and she jumped on his back, the two of them laughing as he piggybacked her through the path their security team cut to the limo, trailed by the long-suffering Lucille and the rest of the wedding party. 

Luka waved everyone else into the limo before him, and then turned and waved one more time to his fans, though he couldn’t see much past the cameras. Then he slid into the car next to Marinette and locked their fingers together. 

Somehow Marinette and Lucille had conspired to rent them a boat instead of a party hall. The Liberty was too small to hold all the guests, but Lucille had found them a boat with a stage and a largely flat deck made for dancing. It had the benefit of letting them have their wedding outdoors while keeping them secure from party crashers and reporters. The Seine had always been a huge part of Luka’s life, and he was glad to be on the water for such a momentous occasion. 

Most of the guests were already on the boat, and Luka made his grand entrance over a gangplank decorated in flowers and ribbons with Anarka on his arm, trailed by Juleka and Rose, and then Marinette’s parents escorted her across. 

The ship cast off and everything was a whirl for a while. They exchanged rings on the stage and spoke simple, sincere vows in front of all their gathered friends and loved ones. Luka danced with both his mother and sister, a three-person Scottish reel they’d danced together since he was a child, performed this time with so much gusto and at such a tempo that it left all three of them laughing and breathless (he had no idea where Nino had dug up that track but he was going to have to get a copy). Tom waltzed Marinette around the room with such enthusiasm that Luka wasn’t entirely sure her feet actually touched the floor at any point. 

Then Marinette was in his arms again, and he was so lost in her eyes that he missed Jagged beginning to play at the piano until her smile turned teasing and her eyebrows lifted. Luka wasn’t the best dancer, but it didn’t matter; all he wanted was to hold her close and let the music move them. Marinette seemed to feel the same, resting her head on his shoulder with a little sigh of contentment as the rest of the party was invited to join them on the dance floor. 

Luka gave her up to Adrien for a dance with only a little reluctance. Luka understood now better than he ever had how deep their bond ran. Before Adrien took Marinette to the dance floor, he leaned close to Luka and held open his coat for a moment. “Plagg wants to talk to you,” Adrien whispered, and a black blur shot from his coat to Luka’s. “Better find somewhere private, he’s not patient,” Adrien warned. 

Luka excused himself at the first opportunity to the men’s room, which was thankfully empty, and the black blur popped out of his coat and hovered in front of him, looking unimpressed. “So,” the little cat kwami said, more intimidating than anything that cute had a right to be. “You married my Guardian.”

Luka nodded warily. “I did.”

“I know Sass is all about second chances and that crap,” Plagg said, rolling to float on his back for a moment, and then sitting up to hover right in front of Luka’s eyes, his own cat-green eyes narrowed. “I’m just telling you now, I don’t go for that. I’m destruction, you got it? There won’t be any second chances with me. So you better take care of my Guardian, understand?”

Luka lifted his eyebrows. “Did you have this talk with Adrien?”

“One, that’s none of your business. Two, my kitten has extenuating circumstances. Three, you bet your ass we had words about what went down before. But I like him, so all I did was give him shit luck for a few months. You can ask him how much fun that was.” Plagg narrowed his eyes again. “I don’t like you. I don’t know you. If I hear from Marinette or Tikki that you stepped one single toe out of line—”

“Are you quite finissshed?” Sass popped his head out of Luka’s breast pocket. “Enough posssturing, cat. You made your point. The Guardian isss resssponsssible for much greater decisionsss than this. Do you trussst her judgement so little?” Sass huffed, and Luka would have said the kwami stuck his nose in the air if he’d had one. “Or mine?”

“Yeah well I’ve been around for a few thousand cycles longer than you, fangs, and even smart women can be stupid about the men they love,” Plagg spat. “So there’s no harm in making things clear from the start, right?”

“Fine,” Sass huffed. “You have done ssso. Now return to your bearer and leave mine to me.”

The little cat folded his flipper arms and did stick his nose in the air. Before the cat could say anything else, Luka interrupted. “Plagg—Thanks. For everything you and Chat Noir did back then. For all that I’m sure you do for Adrien now. And especially for looking out for Marinette. I really appreciate it.”

“Didn’t do it for you,” Plagg mumbled. 

“Even so. Come on, let’s get you back to Adrien. I want my wife back. No offense, but I don’t think this was a fair trade.” Luka grinned.

Plagg made a noise that might have been a chuckle if he weren’t trying to act tough, and zipped back under cover.

“Charming friend you’ve got there,” Luka commented as he found Adrien.

“Sorry,” Adrien shrugged. “I hope he wasn’t too awful.”

“It was fine.” Luka stepped close for a moment to let Plagg slip back, and then moved away. “All the same, I think you can keep him and I’ll go find my wife.”

Adrien grinned. “She had her ‘up to something’ grin on, so good luck with that.” 

“Oh boy,” Luka sighed, but he was grinning as he said it. He hunted through the crowd, stopping for handshakes and backslaps and congratulations. Really, considering the short notice they’d given, a surprising number of people had been able to attend. There were a fair number of industry people here that Luka had felt kind of obligated to invite, but the crowd was mostly friends and loved ones of friends, and that was perfect.

He finally found Marinette conspiring with Nino. “Now what are you up to?” Luka asked, slipping an arm around his wife. 

Marinette grinned up at him. “I just think we should take a quick peek back at where all this started.”

“Oh my God,” Luka laughed, as the big screen over the currently empty stage lit up and a familiar kittycorn logo flashed up on screen. “You didn’t.” 

“Of course I did,” Marinette giggled, as Kitty Section’s very first music video played, the one they had sent to Bob Roth’s contest all those years ago. 

“Wow, that brings back memories,” Luka sighed. He looked at the stage, and then spotted Juleka moving through the crowd near him. “Hey Jules,” he bellowed, more than loud enough to get her attention. She turned toward him with an exasperated expression and Luka nodded at the stage with a grin. “What do you think?”

Juleka grinned back. “I’ll get Rose.”

“Nino, tell them to get the mics live up there,” Luka instructed, and then he kissed Marinette’s cheek and headed for the stage. Juleka and Rose were right behind him as he picked up his guitar and slung it over his shoulder. He stepped up to the microphone and tapped it. “Turn me up guys,” he hollered, waving at the sound techs. They jumped to it and the microphone crackled to life. “There we go,” Luka grinned. “Adrien, come on up here. Hey Mylène,” Luka called. “Can I borrow Ivan for a minute?” Mylène smiled and shooed Ivan toward the stage. “Come on up here big guy.” Ivan rubbed the back of his neck, smiling shyly, but the way he spun the drumsticks between his fingers told Luka he wasn’t too out of practice.

“All right,” Luka surveyed his former bandmates, every one of them grinning widely, even Juleka. “You ready, Rose?” At her thumbs up, he grinned back at Ivan. “Count us off, man. No, wait,” he held up a hand, and turned back to the crowd. “We’re still missing somebody. Marinette, get up here, baby.” He grinned. “You’ve always been my unicorn.” There was a chorus of “aww’s” and a few laughing “eews” as Marinette made her way to the stage. She came to stand beside Luka, and he put his arm around her waist and kissed her temple. “All right, let’s do this. Go for it, Ivan.” He released Marinette and slid his guitar into position. 

“YOU KNOW I LOVE UNICORNS,” Rose belted, proving the years had not diminished her lung capacity in the slightest. Luka joined in, improvising a harmony to the old but familiar vocals as he sang to a laughing Marinette. It wasn’t a perfect performance, they were all a little rusty, but it was more fun than Luka had had in years. 

Afterwards, Adrien and Ivan relinquished their places to Luka’s regular backup, and he had someone bring up a stool for Marinette so she could be comfortable. He wanted her close to him. She put her hands over his mouth in surprise as he played the opening riff he’d been working on, and he winked at her as he stepped up to the mic. This was his first ever performance of Lightning on the Water and he wanted it to be perfect. Luka knew how to play an audience, but this one time, he ignored them and sang just for Marinette. The crowd of guests was nearly silent as his guitar mimicked sparks dancing over the water, and he sang in low, smokey tones about the draw of deadly beauty, buzzing over his skin, the desire to dive deep and never come up again.

The silence lasted for a long moment after he finished.

He was still staring into Marinette’s eyes when a whoop came from the crowd that he immediately recognized as Jagged. “Now that’s a hit, kid!” the older rock star hollered. “I’m pissed I didn’t write it myself!”

Everyone laughed, and the atmosphere lightened. “You can go down if you want,” Luka whispered to Marinette, and she shook her head.

“Just this once, I want to stay up here with you for a while,” she whispered back, squeezing his arm. 

“Kiss her!” someone screamed (Marinette’s grandmother, Luka thought), and laughing, Luka did. 

“What do you want me to play next?” he asked her, and she pulled him down to speak in his ear. “Yeah, I can play it,” Luka chuckled. “Too bad Clara couldn’t make it, but we’ll make do.” He stepped back to the mic. “You guys remember this one, right?” He played the opening to Miraculous.

The guests remembered the song and the dance that went with it, and Marinette danced beside him as they belted the lyrics into the microphone together. Luka had to catch the stand once when she knocked into it, but he was well versed in keeping things rolling over those kinds of incidents, so aside from a little laughter, the show went on.

Luka hadn’t planned a set list, hadn’t exactly planned an impromptu concert at all, but this was who he was, and this was what he did. When his heart got too full, it overflowed in music, and it was pouring over today. And this wasn’t like the concerts he was used to playing. This was his friends and the people he loved, a party just like they used to have in the old days. They rolled through song after song, some he’d written and some of their old favorites from other artists, some that came to his mind and others shouted at him from the crowd, and he let his happiness and love shine through in all of them. He bounced with the drumbeat pounded behind him as he belted, “I don’t care what people might think, I got your name in permanent ink—” Marinette leaned up to sing the next line with him. “Baby this ship ain't never gonna sink!” they hollered into the mic together, and he went on as Marinette laughed, dancing with her hands over her head and the beads on her white dress sparkling in the sun, “Just kiss me like nobody’s watching! Yeah people are talking, it doesn’t matter what they say. Just kiss me in the middle of the street to let the whole world see that there’s nobody else for me!” 

Of course Jagged couldn’t stay out of things for long, but by the time he leapt up on the stage, Luka was ready to let him take over. He held his wife’s hand as they went back down for more dancing and hugs and congratulations, but it was all a haze to Luka after that. Playing had finally drained off all that excess buzz he’d been carrying around all day and tucked his soul back into his body, and he just felt...peace. Peace, and maybe a little bit of impatience to be back at home with the love of his life and the weight of this day.

Jagged relinquished the stage at last to Anarka, Juleka, and Rose, who sang a beautiful three part harmony of The Parting Glass as the ship came back into dock, and then it was a long string of goodbyes and la bise before they finally found themselves alone in the car back to Luka’s apartment—their apartment.

It felt intensely quiet after all the excitement, and Luka found himself grateful for it. He slipped his arms around Marinette’s waist and she lay against his chest. They cuddled in silence all the way home. As soon as they were out of the limo, Luka scooped her up. Marinette protested, laughing, as he carried her into the building, up the elevator, and all the way up to the apartment.

“You’re wearing yourself out for nothing,” Marinette told him as she dug through his pocket, looking for his keys. 

“All that time at the gym might as well be good for something,” he said as she unlocked the door for them. “You’re heavier than you look with all that superhero muscle, but you’re still pretty light.” Marinette pushed the door open, and he carried her inside.

Luka set her down gently on the couch, and then sank down beside her, stroking her cheek tenderly. They kissed softly for a moment, and then curled together again. Sass and Tikki zipped out of their hiding places, and with a quick cheek cuddle for each of them and a whisper of congratulations, the kwamis made themselves scarce. The hem of Marinette's dress was grey with dirt, her hair was coming loose, and when she smiled up at him he could see the exhaustion on her face. Luka smoothed the loose hair away from her eyes. “We’re married,” he said softly.

“Yeah,” she smiled up at him.

“Now what?"

“I don’t know,” Marinette put her hands under her chin on his chest and blinked up at him. “Never been married before. It was fun but I’m kind of worn out. Maybe you can help me get out of all this stuff and we can go take a nice warm bath and relax, and we’ll see how we feel after that.”

“That sounds amazing.” He nuzzled her temple. “My wife is a genius.”

Marinette giggled. “My husband is a sweetheart.” 

“God, say that again,” Luka breathed, putting his arms around her. 

“My husband,” Marinette murmured, smiling.

“My wife.” 

“Marinette D.C. Couffaine.”

“I love it.” He kissed her softly, and then couldn’t make himself pull away until he was out of breath. “Let’s get the bath running, and then I’ll help you get rid of all this stuff.” 

Marinette giggled. “I should warn you there are about fifty thousand pins in my hair. It might take a while.”

“Then the bath should be full by the time we’re done.” He cupped her face and kissed her. “I love you so much, Marinette.”

“Don’t make me cry before we get the makeup off, Luka,” Marinette smiled shakily. 

“You know I don’t care,” he scoffed. “Come on.” Luka pulled her up gently.  

Luka sat her down at the vanity, turned on the bath water, and then crouched beside her and helped her clean the makeup from her face. Together they found and removed all of the pins in her hair, and Luka brushed it carefully. One by one he unhooked the seemingly unending line of buttons down the back of her dress and helped her out of it, and he quickly became distracted with kissing and touching her, until she pushed him away, giggling, to turn off the bath before it ran over. Marinette slipped on a robe and left him, pouting slightly, to get undressed on his own. He forgave her though when she came back with two glasses of champagne and slipped into the bath with him. 

“I don’t think I told you with everything else that was going on,” he commented as she leaned back against him, “My album proposal was approved. They loved the demo tracks I did.”

“Of course they did,” Marinette sighed, laying her head back on his shoulder. “What are you going to call it?”

“Second Chance,” he told her with a smile. 

Marinette craned her neck to smile back at him. “Perfect.”

[amelialincoln]

It’s me again, I wanted to see if you could write a prompt about Betty coming back, after Amelia has Jake, like her showing up at Mer’s and Amelia opens the door with the baby in her arms, and maybe Betty wanting to see Leo. I don’t know, I hope it’s not a terrible idea, also thank you

Mess is Mine

It was six pm and Link was making breakfast. She wasn’t sure if it was due to his love of breakfast food or their screwed up sleep schedule. After a restless night they’d been dosing in an out of sleep since this morning and into the late afternoon and only had decided to come down due to their hunger. They’d been spending the last couple of nights at Meredith’s so that they could pack all of Amelia’s thing up before moving to Link’s apartment permanently and to give Meredith and Maggie some quality time with Jake. Amelia nursed Jake in the living room. It was rare to have the house to themselves but Meredith was at a friend of Zola’s birthday party with the kids and Maggie was still at work.

“Do you want hash browns?” Link called from the kitchen. “Because I really want hash browns.”

“Sounds good,” Amelia called back, shifting Jake to the other side of her chest. “Can you make toast?”

“I think I’m going to do toast, fried eggs and hashbrowns.” Link entered the living room giving her a lopsided grin. He marveled at the sight of his girlfriend and child. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Definitely feeling it right now,” she joked, handing Jake to Link and rebuttoning her shirt. She swiftly tied her hair back into a messy bun, noticing the extra length. “It’s time for a haircut.”

“I like it long,” he grinned as his phone began to vibrate in his pocket. “Those are the eggs,” he explained quickly as he passed Jake to her and reentered the kitchen.

“Hey, Jakey,” she laughed as he tried to grab one of her loose strands of hair. She glanced up as the doorbell rang.

“Can you get that, babe?” Link called from the kitchen.

“Yep,” Amelia replied, struggling to stand up with the heavy and squirming baby in her hands. “Come on, bud.” She always felt awkward opening Meredith’s door and usually having to explain that she was one of the three women who lived here and probably not the one they were looking for. She balanced Jake on her hip as she opened the door. “Hey,” she swallowed, not believing who was standing before her. “Betty, what are you doing here?” She scanned her for any evidence of drug use but the teenager looked completely sober.

“Hi,” Betty answered slowly, not taking her eyes off of the chubby baby that Amelia was supporting on her hip. “Um...I heard that you and Owen weren’t living together anymore. So I came here. I just wanted to see Leo. Please don’t call my parents.”

Amelia bit the inside of her cheek. “They don’t know your here?” She ignored Jake’s pudgy arms reaching out to Betty, which was common as he always wanted to be held by everyone in the room. Betty shook her head. “Leo’s with Owen. When we split up I gave him full custody. Which probably ended up being a good decision because...” she glanced down at Jake, pausing. “...I can drive you over there tomorrow?” She offered.

“Okay,” Betty replied, Amelia watched her she seemed to process everything going on. “Is he Owen’s?” She asked. As if on cue she felt Link’s arms wrap around her waist.

“What’s up?” He asked. “Hi, I’m Dr. Lincoln.” He extended a hand to Betty.

“Betty.” She accepted his hand cautiously.

“Do you want to come in?” Amelia sighed. Betty nodded.

After about half an hour of convincing Betty to let Amelia call her parents she was finally successful. And although they didn’t seem very happy about it, they allowed Betty to stay the night and for Amelia to drive her home tomorrow. She didn’t mention their visit to Owen’s tomorrow, which he had seemed fine with. However, she could sense his worry that Betty was having second thoughts through their texts back and forth. Over dinner they’d decided to go the the apartment since they had a spare bedroom there and no extra room at Meredith’s.

“How old is he?” Betty asked as Amelia was buckling Jake into his car seat.

“Two weeks.” She sighed, finally giving up and letting Link finish the job before sitting in the backseat beside him. She could see Betty doing the mental math out of the corner of her eye. “It wasn’t planned. Link and I started seeing each other pretty soon after Owen and I broke off.” She didn’t know why she had the urge to justify herself to the teenager. Betty nodded. “You can sit up with Link, if you want. I have to sit back here with Jake and it might be a little squished.

“I’m okay,” Betty replied and Amelia shrugged. Link was trying so hard to hide his confusion that he was going insane. Amelia briefly mentioned Betty before and he remembered the occasional time that he would spot her at the hospital but he had the nagging feeling that he was very unaware of the full story.

“I’m not that scary,” he joked. Betty gave him a weird look and Link cursed under his breath. Teenagers were so confusing.

They left early the next morning. Amelia tried to hide the weird feeling she had about leaving Jake for the first time since his birth. She knew the day would’ve come eventually but the thought of not having her baby sleeping soundlessly on her chest was making her a little uneasy. She tried to push away the thought as she buckled herself into the drivers seat. She glanced up to see Link waving Jake’s chubby hand goodbye and found herself suppressing tears as she waved back.

“What’s wrong?” Betty asked immediately.

“Stupid hormones,” she waved her hand dismissively before putting the car into drive.

“Oh yeah,” Betty hesitated. “I remember those.” Amelia bit her lip, glancing at the seventeen year old. She always felt that her teenaged years were similar to hers but she couldn’t have imagined adding a pregnancy to the list. She just nodded as Betty met her eyes and turned back to the road.

Owen met them at the front door with Leo in his hands. Amelia noted that, as she expected, he looked worried. He invited them in quickly. Amelia glanced around the familiar home, noticing Teddy’s little decorative additions. She wondered where she was.

“Where’s Teddy?”

“At the hospital,” Owen put simply. He set Leo down and he made a couple clumsy steps before tumbling over with a giggle.

“He’s walking,” Betty observed.

“Oh, yeah. Kinda,” Owen replied, distractedly peering into the kitchen.

“Da da!” Leo exclaimed happily.

“Hey dude,” Owen laughed. Amelia looked to Betty, who wore an expression that she didn’t recognize. They all walked to the kitchen and found Allison, who was messily eating cheerios in her highchair.

“Wow, you both work fast,” Betty mumbled, to which Amelia laughed.

“Some faster than others,” she joked, eyeing Owen who awkwardly lifted Allison into his arms. Betty looked down to see Leo pulling on her pant leg. She slid down onto the carpet and Leo lunged into her arms.

“He does that,” Owen chuckled. “He’s very cuddly. Unlike this one,” he noted as Allison began to fuss in his arms.

“Hi Leo,” Betty cooed. Amelia watched the two. As Leo grew older she’d begun to recognize the resemblance in her.

“What are you guys up to today?” Owen asked, setting Allison back down in the highchair and glancing between Amelia and Betty.

“Betty wanted to visit Leo. So I’ll probably just drive her home after this.”

“I can drive her if you need to get back,” Owen offered. “I can fill her in on what’s been going on.”

“Her parents—”

“Won’t care.” Betty cut in, Leo squirming in her arms. “I’ve fucked up enough already.”

“Careful, he’s repeating everyone’s words these days,” Owen grinned.

“Oh sorry,” Betty winced. “Is that okay, Amelia?”

“I mean it’s fine with me,” she shrugged, trying to conceal the fact that she was itching to be back in bed with Jake and Link.

Betty smiled. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” Amelia shrugged, leaning down to give Betty a tight embrace. “Next time just call first.”

“Sorry,” Betty blushed. “I thought you might say no.”

“Never,” Amelia shook her head, “it’s not like I have to parent you anymore. Unless—”Betty interrupted her by lifting a six month sober chip from her pocket. “That’s my girl.” And she left with a sense of pride that swelled in her chest.

i don’t know how i feel about this fic. it definitely just feels all over the place but i hope whoever requested it enjoys!💕

[athingthatwantsvirginia]

Lily Briscoe, Remember?

PART TWENTY-SIX OF THE DO YOU SEE HER FACE? SERIES

Pairing: Jess Mariano x Original Character (Ella Stevens)

Warnings: drinking, smoking, plentiful pop culture references

Word Count: 3.7K

Summary: After a visit to a local bar, Ella catches up with Jess and spends a night in Philadelphia.

Twirling her cool water glass around and around on the grimy table, Ella smiled softly when a Strokes song came over the speakers. The bar was some hole-in-the-wall dive a few blocks down from the publishing house, still adorned with St. Patrick’s Day decorations although it was halfway through May. But Ella didn’t mind it. There weren’t rowdy swarms of college students or bachelorette parties. Instead, people in their late twenties sat around in black, square-framed glasses talking in buzzing tones. They had locally-made beer and a small, empty stage with just a stool, where independent artists played on the weekends. The air was salty with fries and early summer excitement. Matthew made conversation with her as Chris and Jess went up to order the drinks. Leaning back against the ripped vinyl booth, Ella listened intently as Matthew, sat across from her in a creaky wooden chair, told her about he and Chris meeting in high school.

“...so, we weren’t in the AV club or anything, but we definitely weren’t on the football team either-”

Chris led the way back to the table with a tray of beers and a hoot of satisfaction, Jess trailing behind his friend and rolling his eyes.

Stopping mid-sentence, Matthew turned to Chris and swiped a drink. Chris sat down beside him and was almost instantly chattering away. Matthew seemed kind, quiet, subdued. A good balance to Chris’s chaotic enthusiasm. Jess slid into the booth beside Ella, shrugging off his suit jacket, flushed in the stuffy air. Their upper arms touched, making her stomach do a flip. Even though it had been years since he lived at Luke’s, Jess still somehow had an aroma of pine.

“So,” Chris began, turning to Ella with a pointed look and a grin, “what do you do, Ella?”

“Oh, um, I’m a waitress.”

“And an artist,” Jess chimed in, taking a sip from his bottle.

Ella rolled her eyes and then shot him a teasing glare. “Not professionally. But I just graduated from Southern Connecticut State last week. Hopefully I won’t be filling sandwich orders my whole life.”

“You graduated already, Doogie?” Jess asked with a pleasant, surprised chuckle.

She shrugged. “Wasn’t too big a deal. I took summer classes and stuff.”

“What’s your major?” Matthew asked.

“Studio art,” she said. “Minor in history, though.”

Jess raised his brows, but said nothing. Apparently she hadn’t gone through only outward changes. He could smell her lavender perfume as he sipped on his cheap, watery beer. It was odd to see her in Keeley’s, a bar he’d frequented since arriving in Philadelphia. The feeling was not quite deja-vu, but his worlds were certainly colliding. In the back of his mind, he wondered where her necklace was, wondered where she was living. It was easy to feel like he knew her, maybe better than anyone, but they hadn’t spoken in so long. She could be married, for all he knew. Scanning her thin hands, he found no engagement or wedding rings. But an uneasiness still sat right under his skin, eager to be resolved.

Crossing his arms, elbows on the table, Chris leaned closer into the conversation. “That’s so cool! Do you have anything lined up? Seems like you should, considering how many people tried to buy your sketches today.”

She scoffed, continuing to turn her glass anxiously. A blush warmed her cheeks, and a nervous smile tugged at her lips as she averted her eyes down to the table. “Sort of. Grad school is where I’m headed now.”

“Really?” Jess chimed in. “Where?”

Clearing her throat, Ella raked a hand through her hair. Though Jess tilted his head at her, she refused to meet his gaze. “It’s funny, actually. I’ve still got some things to work out...but UPenn.”

“No way! That’s right down the road from us!” Chris exclaimed.

Ella’s smile widened marginally, and excitement rose in her chest. “Yeah, it’s weird. I had a few I was choosing between, and Penn reached out and...I only confirmed a couple weeks ago. A few days before I got your invitation in the mail. Since I was coming down here anyway, I scheduled my interview with the Dean for tomorrow.”

“Well, congrats,” Matthew said, raising his bottle.

“Thanks,” she replied, feeling slightly silly as she toasted her water against their beers.

Before another moment had passed, Chris got a page on his beeper. Apparently, the poet who had performed at the open house had left something of his behind and would need to be let in early the next morning. Matthew and Chris began commiserating amongst themselves about the performer, who was apparently less than a joy to work with. Biting on the inside of her cheek, Ella tried to suppress her smile. Too much joy made her nervous. It meant always waiting for the other shoe to drop. She’d had the odd mixture of anxiety and anticipation brewing in her stomach since opening Jess’s package. It was too much of a coincidence for her to be going to a school five minutes away from where Jess worked. Too perfect. She didn’t trust it.

Beside her, Jess was trying equally hard to hold in his emotions. She would be in Philly. Right down the road. She hadn’t been right down the road from him in what felt like forever. There were still so many unknowns. But he couldn’t help the swell of his heart. What were the chances? Plastering on a smug smirk, a mask to hide his exhilaration at her news, he nudged her gently with his elbow.

“So, you’re Philly bound?”

“Seems that way,” she said, nodding.

He hummed in acknowledgement, pausing to gaze at her for a moment. Freckles and Bette Davis eyes and a deep, raspy voice. So different but so familiar. She offered him a tiny smile, caught up in the moment. A swarm of pleasant butterflies fluttered in her stomach, and again, she wished they could kiss. Inside their private world, as they once had been.

“Y’know, I think it was fate,” Jess said, smirk growing. “Us both ending up here.”

She snorted a laugh and shook her head slightly. “Not all that idealist bullshit again, Mariano.”

“Hey, not everything changes,” Jess shrugged, taking another sip.

“Guess not,” she said quietly, a fond sparkle in her hazel eyes. “But I’d expect nothing less from a Hemingway fetishist.”

Jess rolled his eyes. “Whatever, Stevie Nicks.”

Instead of retorting, Ella snatched the beer sitting before Jess and took a long sip. Setting it down in front of him again, she winked and then began to hum along to Julian Casablancas’s lyrics.

.   .   .

“I’m serious. I was really planning on just getting a motel,” Ella insisted.

Shushing her, a finger on his lips, Chris shook his head. He stood in the tiny kitchen, rummaging through the rusty fridge for some drunk food. Matthew was tipsy, and had already retreated to his room. Chris, however, had managed to get absolutely wasted. They’d practically dragged him up the stairs in Truncheon to the apartment above, while he babbled loudly, complaining about his boyfriend being out of town for the open house. Now, as Jess and Ella argued about her sleeping in the apartment, he offered slurred interjections and cackles off to the side.

Jess, having only drunk two beers over the course of the day, rolled his eyes at his friend. “Go to bed, man.”

“Make me, Jess,” Chris replied jovially, retrieving a box of fried chicken from behind the half-and-half. Straightening up, he shot them both a smug grin and made for the bedroom he shared with Matthew. “Have fun, kids.”

“Good luck fighting that sweater off your head,” Ella quipped, not able to stop the words before they left her mouth. Chris, for all his exuberance, was wearing deceptively stuffy clothes. A button-up with a patterned sweater over it, khakis.

Again, Chris only laughed. “She’s feisty. Let’s keep her forever.”

Smiling thinly, Ella gave him the finger. He blew her a kiss before entering the dark room and shutting the door loudly behind him. Ella winced slightly. She knew Matthew was probably already asleep in one of the room’s twin beds.

Jess ran a hand down his face, standing amid the cluttered mess of their living room.

Ella turned back to Jess, crossing her arms over her chest as an amused crease formed between her brows. “How’d you end up living with them again?”

“Long story.”

“I would imagine.”

“He’s usually not quite so intolerable, but it’s been a big day,” Jess said apologetically. “And he’s still super pissed his boyfriend had to go outta town for work.”

Ella shrugged. “Hey, no problem. I like them. But, yes, it has been a big day. And I don’t want to keep you up any longer. So, why don’t I just stay at a motel?”

Shaking his head, Jess gestured for her to follow him and led the way to his bedroom. “Yeah, right. It’s past midnight. You can just crash with me. Not like we haven’t shared a bed before.”

A heavy sigh escaped her lips. “Are you sure? At least let me take the couch. I’ve been sleeping on one for two years, anyway.”

“At Lane’s?” Jess asked, switching on the ceiling light as they entered.

Surveying the bedroom, a smile immediately came to Ella’s lips. The living room was an absolute mess, but he’d managed to keep his own room decently clean. In the small space, he had only a queen-sized bed, pushed against the wall with the windows, and a dresser, on top of which his boombox sat. Piles of books and CDs littered the scratched wood floor, mostly in the free corners. A framed poster of Nietzche hung above his bed, and she burst out laughing when she saw it, before she could help herself.

“What?” Jess asked, brows furrowed.

She pointed to the poster, then bit down on her thumb nail to stifle her giggles. “Nothing, I’m just glad you’re becoming self-aware.”

He rolled his eyes playfully. “Already overstaying your welcome, Stevens. The bathroom’s the first door on the left when you walk into the apartment. You can get changed, brush your teeth, whatever.”

Nodding, Ella slipped off her shoes near the door and put down her heavy shoulder bag. It only took a minute of rifling through before she found the pajamas and toothbrush she’d packed for the short trip. Since she was little, she couldn’t fall asleep before brushing her teeth first. Clutching the supplies in her arms, she turned back to Jess. He’d taken off his suit jacket and tossed it down on the bed, was unclasping his watch and setting it down on the dresser. He looked so grown up in the yellowish overhead light, bright against the dark green walls.

“This is really okay with you, Jess?” she asked, sounding shyer than he’d ever heard.

“Yeah,” he replied, flashing her a reassuring smile. “What kind of host would I be otherwise?”

Smiling back, Ella nodded again. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

As she left the room, Jess let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding in and ran a hand over his mouth. He thought back to the night she’d let him sleep over, dragged him from the freezing back seat of his old car into her warm bedroom. It was the least he could do. Truly. But anxiety squeezed his insides tightly. He tried to shake it off. Ella herself had said he didn’t need to be nervous. He changed into some sweatpants and a t-shirt quickly, running his hands through his neat hair and turning it messy. When she returned, face washed and teeth brushed, he was just flicking on his bedside lamp and pulling back the blue comforter. He recognized the Bowie t-shirt she wore from some vague memory.

“No KISS shirt?” he asked.

She chuckled as she stuffed her dress and toothbrush into her bag near the door. “Oh, I never travel with that. Couldn’t bear for it to get lost.”

“Oh, right, my mistake,” Jess said. “You can turn out that switch, if you want.”

Ella turned off the overhead light, left only in the glow of his nightstand lamp. Before the nausea could overtake her, she powered through the shakiness of her hands and came to sit across from him. It didn’t need to be strange. She’d just gotten her best friend back. And they could sleep in the same bed as they had so many times before.

“Since I’m already taking advantage of your hospitality,” she began, eyeing the half-empty pack of Marlboros on the floor by the bed, “could I maybe borrow a cigarette?”

Smirking fondly, Jess nodded, reaching down to grab the pack and the lighter. He lit hers for her as she held it between her lips, and then his own. He cracked open the window and flicked ash out into the May midnight.

“What’s got you smoking?” he asked.

She sighed through her nose in white streams. “My interview with the Dean tomorrow. I mean, I’m already in. And they contacted me because of my portfolio. But, I don’t know. Anything could happen.”

“But it won’t,” Jess said. “It’ll be fine. You’re Lily Briscoe, remember?”

A weak smile crossed her face and she gave an unconvincing nod. Then, she looked back up at him curiously. “What about you? Still smoke as much as you did in high school?”

Jess shook his head. “No. Almost never. But I may have panicked about this whole open house thing last night.”

“Looked like it went great,” she said, tapping ash out the window, sitting cross-legged.

Shrugging, Jess leaned back against the wall behind his bed. “We’ll see what that lady from the paper writes.”

“Who cares what she thinks?” Ella asked.

“People who could spend their money here,” Jess answered, chuckling breathily.

Waving a dismissive hand, Ella took a final drag of her cigarette. She crushed it out on the windowsill, where she saw the small, circular remnants of smokes past, before throwing butt out the window into the dumpster below. “Maybe. Seems like you’ve got a pretty decent underground following already.”

“And you call me the idealist,” he said, shaking his head and tossing out his own cigarette.

She laughed lightly, following Jess’s lead as he closed his window again and got under the covers. Soon, they faced each other with their heads against Jess’s pillows. They smelled like him. After shutting off his lamp, Jess regarded Ella in the dim light. He felt like he’d stepped through a door into a memory or a dream.

“Speaking of Truncheon, tell me about the book,” she said quietly.

“Which book?”

“Your book, Sherlock,” she teased.

He sighed, swallowing dryly. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything,” she replied. “I mean, when did you write it? How did you write it? Did ever end up getting a computer, or-”

“Woah, Stevens,” he interrupted, snickering at her rapid-fire questions. “I started writing it when I was still in Stars Hollow.”

She furrowed her brows. “What?”

“Yeah. That notebook I came back for when I picked up my car? I sort of...started before I left. I took a break in California. But I started taking advantage of the library computers when I got back to New York.”

“So, it really was an On The Road thing.”

“Not quite so ambitious,” he said. “But, once I read that Stephen King book you got me...I just got started.”

“And you never told me?” she asked.

He only shrugged in response.

Ella shook her head slightly, watching him with furrowed brows. “Curiouser and curiouser, Mariano.”

“I wanted to surprise you with it.”

“Well, you did.” She thought she saw a flush rise to his cheeks, but couldn’t quite tell in the low light. Something indecipherable flashed across his eyes as he hesitated. She took the lead instead. “Hey Jess?”

“Hm?”

“I’m so fucking proud of you.”

Jess rolled his eyes, really blushing now. His face went scarlet, and he uttered a nervous chuckle. “Thanks, Daria.”

“Anytime, James Dean.”

Ignoring the flip of his stomach, Jess let the compliment roll off him like water and faced her earnestly. “Did you say you were still livin’ with Lane?”

She nodded. “Yeah. It was just...easier than getting my own place. A smaller chunk of the rent to pay. Especially with how many classes I was taking, and it was right across the street from Luke’s. At some point, we upgraded to a futon, so it was a little easier to sleep.”

Jess snorted. “I’m pretty sure you could fall asleep in the middle of a tornado, get transported to Oz, then back to Kansas, and wouldn’t wake up the whole time.”

“Be that as it may,” she said pointedly, “it was pretty okay. But Lane and Zach are getting married in a couple weeks. It would be time to move out even if it wasn’t for grad school.”

“Lane and Zach?” Jess asked, brows furrowed in surprise. “What about that Dave guy?”

Ella sighed softly. “He went to California for college. Eventually, they broke up. And she was on and off with Zach and...I don’t know. He’s not the worst guy. And I know there’s no talking her out of it, anyway.”

“People are gonna do what they’re gonna do,” Jess agreed, thinking back to his own mother’s last wedding.

“I’ll miss her, though. Without Lane, I would probably still have majored in history. Ended up teaching at Stars Hollow High.”

“No way.”

“I’m not so sure. But just seeing Lane play with the band all the time...she looked so happy. Even though she had no money and her mom was pissed at her. I thought maybe actually trying to do what you love wasn’t such a crazy idea,” she explained, voice husky and tired, but so lively.  

It made Jess smile. “That’s great, Eleanor.”

She shrugged again and cleared her throat, wincing slightly. “Ugh, Jesus. Smoking is never worth it. I don’t think I’ve smoked since...since the last time we saw each other. The morning after you left.”

His face fell. There it was. Finally. “I’m sorry, Elle.”

“For what?” she asked dismissively. The past was past.

“For that night. Everything. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“It’s okay, Jess.”

“Luke gave me this stupid self-help book and I read it and we kinda went to the wedding together and I got...mixed up.”

Smiling softly, Ella shifted in her spot to move a little closer to him. “I’m gonna need more details on that self-help book later.”

He uttered a self-conscious scoff.

“But, really Jess, it’s okay. I understand. And...I just...I wasn’t ready,” she said finally, struggling for her words. “After I moved out of my dad’s house...I still needed Lane. And Lorelai. And Luke. I always thought getting away would fix everything. But...I wasn’t ready for you.”

A sad smile tugged at his lips. “I don’t think I was ready for you, either.”

Breathing deeply, Ella let the moment pass between them. Forgiveness, maybe? On both sides? She wasn’t quite sure what it was, but she knew it made her feel calmer. Maybe ripping old wounds open was worth it if it meant they would finally get the chance to heal.

“I bet you started breaking hearts when you got here though. What with the starry-eyed starving artist thing you’ve got going on,” she said. She knew it was a flimsy attempt at being sly, but she just couldn’t bring herself to ask him outright. And he was letting her sleep in his bed. That was a positive sign. But she needed to know for sure.

He chuckled slightly and shook his head. “Not really. Turns out, people don’t flock to the guy with nothing but a shitty final draft and a duffel bag to his name.” Then, after a beat of silence, sirens blaring from somewhere off in the distance of the city, he spoke again. “What about you?”

The inquisitive, almost hopeful, tone in his voice made her heart skip a beat. “Nothing extraordinary. A couple dates. Guys. Girls. Never got anything to stick.”

“Hm.” Jess paused, watching Ella watch him.

The sound of the singing crickets mixed strangely with the murmur of the city, even in the early Monday morning hours. Ella tried to remember each detail of the present moment. Lying beside Jess in Philadelphia, preparing to go to grad school, finally out from under the thumbs of her father and Stars Hollow. And in love. She decided on it finally. Nothing had changed. She loved Jess as she had for so long, even if she had never truly realized it. Maybe she had, but was too scared to admit it. She thought back to the day he took her to the Met, riding back home in his car, nothing but the dark, empty highway around them. She’d almost said it then. But she hadn’t. Even then, though, she’d been completely his. All or nothing. Do or die.

Slowly, she brought her hand out from under the covers and placed it on his cheek. She stroked his stubbly skin with her thumb. The boy who’d turned into a man all on his own, who had always been so guarded and so kind. Who gave her a bed when she was drunk and bought her charcoals on Valentine’s Day and took her to museums and wrote books for her and hung her drawings on his wall. Who she had taken to a private movie and driven to the emergency room and kissed as an Interpol song played and brought in from the cold. The give and take which had always been there, making her feel safe. Easy. Home.

Taking a moment to close his eyes, Jess quieted all the thoughts screaming in his head.

“I missed you,” she whispered.

“I missed you too,” he replied, too overwhelmed to say much of anything else. He remembered the night on the bridge when they’d decided to try together. How the nerves had made his stomach churn. But she’d taken his hand in hers. She’d made the first move. And made his whole being feel calm. She had cared for him when he couldn’t care for himself. It made him feel like a teenager again. Her touch. Her voice. Her mind.

He wound his arm around her waist and brought her closer, hugging her tightly. They were silent and comfortable. Eventually, Ella’s breathing deepened and Jess felt her muscles relax, holding her. Outside, he could see the full moon reflecting light against a clear night sky. And he felt so content he could barely shut his eyes for a second, fearful of missing anything.

[gt-fluffy-vore]

Mindtrapped Chapter two: Adrenaline

Sanders Sides fanfiction

Warnings: GT, tricking people into being afraid, major panic attack, almost vore but nothing actually happens?, accidental self-harm, people turning into animals, mention of violent images

2541 words

It had been three weeks since they’d gotten stuck, and in that time Logan had done nothing but study. He performed countless experiments on the four Sides individually and wrote down absolutely everything. It turns out the room they woke up in was part of a facility of some kind. It was the farthest room on the east side of the building. Weirder yet, the facility was… seemingly there for them. They each had a bedroom, there was a living room, a kitchen, bathroom, and quite a few other miscellaneous rooms, one of which was a lab, which contained a large desk and all the paper Logan could ever need. 

The first thing they discovered was that the involuntary size-shifting applied to all of them and was most likely triggered by adrenaline, according to Logan’s notes. Although, no one had ever actually seen Logan involuntarily change size or form, so as far as they knew, it only applied to the other three.

They never did find Remus or Janus, which meant that, thankfully, wherever they were, those two weren’t stuck with them. But that worried Logan more than anything as to what that could mean for Thomas, which only brought up more questions and less answers…

Another thing they discovered almost immediately, was… for some reason, stuck in this place, unable to use their own abilities correctly, they also had taken on normal, real-world, human functions. They had to learn to share a bathroom, to cook, to establish proper sleep schedules, but most importantly they had to learn how to keep themselves from getting hurt in the process. Now that they couldn’t manipulate themselves at will, they couldn’t repair themselves if they got burned, or cut, ect. Currently Logan was examining Virgil’s arm, where he’d cut himself open trying to use a kitchen knife the day before. “I believe these samples should be sufficient.”

“What are you trying to find with this anyway?”

“I am trying to decipher exactly how our DNA structure has changed, and… why we have them at all, being figments of Thomas’s imagination.”

“Well, tell me if you figure it out.” Virgil turned to leave, but before he could, Patton came bounding around the corner towards the door.

“Logan! Have you figured out anything new?” Wham! He fell face-first over a cord laying over the doorway and… suddenly his massive form filled half of the lab, stuck half-in and half-out of the room, his waist filling every inch of the doorway. “Uh, we got a big problem… again.”

“And... a really small one.”

Logan looked down at the now two inch tall Virgil. “Oooh…” He took a deep breath and looked between the giant Patton and shrunken Virgil. They waited patiently until he flung a hand up in a way that clearly said ‘duh!’. “These involuntary changes are triggered by adrenaline. So if we can force a rush of adrenaline it should cause another dramatic change, hopefully in our favor.”

“Hopefully?!”

“Well, we can’t be entirely certain that it will elicit the opposite effect, but with any luck… Virgil, may I speak with you privately for a moment?”

“Uh, I guess…”

Nodding, Logan crouched down and held a hand down to him. Virgil flinched back and looked up at him like he was crazy. “It will only be for a moment.” Groaning, Virgil climbed on his palm and found himself completely frozen, clinging to Logan’s pinky finger desperately, eyes squeezed shut. As Logan carefully set him on the desk and sat down, Patton got the hint and started humming to keep himself from hearing them. Even so, Logan leaned down and whispered. “I apologize.” Virgil looked confused, so he explained. “You were unsettled, were you not?”

“Oh…”

He nodded slightly, then moved on. “I think I know how to raise Patton’s adrenaline enough to cause a sufficient reaction. But, it will involve some… acting…”

A few minutes later, Patton stopped humming abruptly as Logan turned around, holding Virgil up by the hood with one hand and holding an open pair of scissors around him with the other. “Uh, watcha got there, uh… L-Logan?” His breathing was already strained.

Logan narrowed his eyes and forced a grin over his face. “Have you ever wondered what one of us would look like if we were just a half?”

Patton’s giant face twisted with horror. “L-Logan, let’s t-talk about this!”

“What’s there to talk about, Patton? Why don’t we just see?”

Logan closed the scissors just slightly and Virgil thrashed violently. “Patton, please!”

Patton was looking desperate, eyes darting madly, breathing heavy. “Please, Logan, put him down!”

“What if I don’t… want to?”

“Logan, please! I… I don’t wanna have to hurt you!”

“Patton, you don’t have to.” Suddenly his expression had returned completely to normal and he set Virgil down in his palm and set the scissors back on his desk. Virgil did, once again, cling to Logan’s finger — he didn’t like being that high up, and he hated being that small. “I’m not going to do anything to Virgil.”

He sniffled and wiped at some tears that were starting to form. “Wh-What?”

“I’m not going to hurt Virgil. How tall are you right now?”

He looked down at himself, then realized he was standing up in the doorway and squealed. “You never were going to… I’m sorry I thought you’d do something like that. So you both faked that… for me? To fix my size? How’d you do it?!”

“As I have said before, these changes are triggered by adrenaline. So we simply had to cause a large enough rush of adrenaline, and that caused another involuntary shift, luckily one that was to our preference.”

“So whenever that happens we just gotta get me worked up and it’ll fix it?”

“No. Causing a rush of adrenaline triggers an involuntary shift. When we caused you to get a rush of adrenaline it triggered an involuntary shift that… shrunk you. And since you were already larger than your normal height, it counteracted your size and returned you to normal. The only reason I attempted something so dangerous is because you were blocking the only exit to this room, and now that we all have real-world bodily functions one of us would eventually need a restroom or the kitchen. We were very lucky this time, but in the future please do not try to raise your adrenaline levels, as it could just as easily have simply exaggerated your size further.”

“So… don’t get worked up on purpose.”

“Please do not.”

“Okay. But, uh, how do we fix the other little problem we got on our hands? Or, on your hands.”

“Oh, of course! I apologize, Virgil, I forgot for a moment I was still holding you.”

“Comforting…” Logan crouched down and moved to set him back on the floor. “Um, actually!” Logan froze. “Before you put me back down…”

“What’s up, kiddo? Ya alright down there?” Patton crouched down in front of Logan.

“Uh… I’m hungry. That still feels weird to say…”

“Now that you mention it, I am too!”

They both stood back up and Logan held out the hand containing Virgil. “I will let the two of you go, then. I have yet to examine the samples I extracted from Virgil’s wound.”

“Oh!” Patton reached out awkwardly, then pulled his hand back before finally setting it flat against Logan’s and waited for Virgil to crawl over. “Ya alright?” Virgil nodded hesitantly — which wasn’t entirely true, but if he answered any other way Patton would just freak out. “Well, see you later. Thanks, Logan!”

“Of course.”

There was one more thing they’d discovered about this place — the cupboards and the fridge in the kitchen never depleted. They could eat as much as they wanted and nothing ever ran out, which was very useful. Once they got to the kitchen, the first thing they noticed was a snow white cat sitting on the kitchen counter directly opposite the door. At seeing them, it immediately started meowing loudly to get their attention. “Where’d you come from, little guy?” The cat batted at his hand, then turned, showing off the golden streak on it’s shoulder, before balancing on it’s back feet and holding a single paw above it’s head. Patton gasped. “Roman?!” The cat nodded firmly, then started pacing the counter, meowing angrily. “Okay, I get you’re upset, but there are worse things to be stuck as, right? I mean, Virgil’s just tiny.” He lowered his cupped hands so Roman could see the two inch Virgil resting in them, and they both stared at each other in shock until finally Roman snickered and flicked his head.

“Well you’re not exactly show ready either!”

“Guys!” Patton cupped his other hand around Virgil and spun him away. “Let’s try and remember we’re all friends here!” They both turned their heads away and Roman flicked his tail angrily. “Come on, guys! This is happening to all of us, let’s try to support and encourage each other!” Virgil sighed, and Roman decided being angry at Virgil was less important than freaking out about the fact the fact that he was a cat and continued to pace. “Um, well… we were just gonna find something to eat, but I’m sure Logan could try to help you turn back! He’s in the lab still. He actually just helped me get back to normal size! Isn’t that cool?!” Roman hung his head and hopped off the counter, then trudged out of the room. “Good luck!” He waited until Roman was gone, then turned and set  Virgil on the counter. “Lucky. I wanna be a kitty too… Maybe next time!”

“Right… Lucky…”

“Whatcha want?”

Virgil shrugged. “I really don’t care, I just don’t want to be hungry. And nothing sweet.”

Patton slowly slid the box of cupcakes back to the back of the counter and moved to the fridge. “What about some of that rice stuff we had last night?”

He shrugged again. “Sure.”

Smiling, Patton got out the container and closed it in the microwave, then opened a cupboard for the dishes and gasped. “Oh my gosh, tiny bowl!” He took out the miniature dish with two fingers and grinned. “Do you see this?!”

“Yeah. I do. It’s the same one that’s been here the past three weeks. Same mini silverware too.”

Gasping, he pulled open the silverware drawer and squealed. “Tiny silverware!”

“Yeah. I know.”

“It’s so cuuute!”

“Uh-huh. The microwave’s done.”

It was, in fact, beeping, and Virgil jumped down into the drawer to retrieve his silverware as Patton took it out. But when he tried to climb back out, he realized… he was too short to reach the edge of the counter. His heart raced as his mind jumped to a million worse-case-scenarios, throwing images of himself getting trapped and starving to death, or growing while in the drawer, or worse yet getting caught in the rotating wheel at the end of the drawer’s groove and being crushed like he was pushed through a meat grinder! Or what if he tried to climb out on the side of the drawer and it closed on him and his top half got caught against the countertop but the bottom was still caught against in the drawer and… and… He took a deep breath, held it for a few seconds, and let it out slowly. He wasn’t alone. Patton was here. But he would have to ask for his help. The thought made him shudder. Patton could be pretty clumsy sometimes, anything could go wrong! What if he dropped him?! Hands shaking, he took a deep breath and swallowed hard. “Virgil? Oh, hey! There ya are! What are ya doin’ in there, kiddo? Virgil?”

Virgil flinched out of his thoughts and looked up at him. “Uh…” He looked nervously down at himself, then up at the countertop. “Uh…” Why was it so hard to just say it?! Patton wouldn’t think any worse of him for asking for his help! Would he…? “I…”

“Oh, oh! You got stuck in there, huh?” Virgil breathed a sigh of relief. “You should’a just said somethin’!” Patton reached down a single finger and held it out to him like a step stool. 

Shaking, Virgil climbed on, then jumped to the countertop. “Th-Thanks.”

“That’s what friends are for! Oh, duh!” He slid the tiny bowl over to him, then got up to find himself a chair.

Virgil watched him leave, then got up and stepped over to Patton’s bowl. Now that he had to eat, Patton had quickly gotten a terrible sweet tooth and almost couldn’t eat anything that wasn’t coated in sugar. He climbed a spare eraser Logan had left, then realized it wasn’t tall enough and turned it on end before climbing it again and peering into the giant bowl. He was genuinely surprised for a moment. He was actually… eating the same thing as Virgil. Nothing sweet about it at all. He was trying to climb back down when the eraser tipped back over on it’s side and in an attempt to try and stay standing, Virgil rammed his thighs into the edge of the bowl and was sent tumbling head first into the bowl. Before he could even sit up properly, he heard Patton set down his chair and froze. Oh, no. Oh, no. Oh, no, oh no! He would see him, right? He was suddenly having an incredibly difficult time breathing. Right?! Virgil scrambled at the side of the bowl desperately, only to slip and tumble further into the bowl. Oh, no. He saw a ginormous silver spoon dig into the rice under him and fell on his back, beginning to hyperventilate. He stared up at the huge face, barely able to breath, and tears ran down his face as Patton started opening his mouth. He tried, and failed, and tried, and failed again, and finally he was able to muster out some sort of half-word just before the spoon passed his lips. “P-P-P-PATTON!”

Clang! The spoon went clattering to the counter and Patton shrieked and shot his hands to his mouth. “VIRGIL?!” Virgil landed roughly on the countertop, then rolled and slammed into Patton’s bowl, where he immediately collapsed and started sobbing. “Are you okay?!” Patton had both hands over his mouth, and tears were beginning to form in his eyes. “Oh my gosh, Virgil! I-I’m so sorry! I-I - I h-had no idea! I’m so sorry, Virgil! Are you okay?! Virgil?!” He carefully slid his bowl to the side so he could see him and noticed he was breathing heavy and rapidly — not hyperventilating now, but close. “Oh, Virgil! I-I’m so sorry!” He finally uncovered his mouth again to wipe the rest of his face dry, but he couldn’t stop crying. “I’m really, really sorry! Virgil? Can you hear me? Are y-you hurt anywhere?” Virgil turned to lay on his back and shook his head in answer, and Patton let out a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness!” He sniffled. “I thought - I thought-!  You-!” He hiccuped, then sniffled, then hiccuped again. “I’m so sorry!”

“What on earth is going on here?!” Patton looked over and there, standing in the doorway, cat-Roman sitting beside him, was Logan.

[livinglikearoyal]

Love on a Schedule | Namjoon

Summary: You were able to join the boys on their trip to New Zealand and comfort Namjoon when he is unable to enjoy the trip due to stress. 

Inspired by Bon Voyage S4 : E6 when Namjoon decided to forgo cycling to work and the anonymous request “I was just wondering if I could request a Namjoon/reader oneshot based on the lyric “let them be them, let us be us” from Love Maze.”

Director Junsoo to camp. Namjoon has decided to return to the campsite. Please ensure that the cameras around the site are ready for his arrival. No personnel is required to remain onsite other than camera op one. Once again, Namjoon will be returning to the campsite for the afternoon. Once the site is prepared, no personnel required to remain besides camera op one.

The rise in volume signals the departure of the staff that remained at the cabins for the day. Quiet murmurs spread throughout the common room as the men and women that expected to have the afternoon off to rest and prepare for the rest of their trip find this time put momentarily on hold. 

Director Hyangmi veers away from the small group heading toward the door when she sees you standing near the front desk, holding your coffee mug. Moving to meet her halfway, you prepare to ask your question when she interrupts.

“You want to go, don’t you.” It was a statement and not a question. It seems as if she has gotten to know you well as that is exactly what you want. Her face is stern for a moment before it breaks into a small smile. “Give it an hour or so for the camera op to get some footage for the broadcast. After that, you can head that way. While the camera op is there be sure…”

“To remain inconspicuous. The camera shouldn’t see or hear me. Understood!” You give an exaggerated salute. 

The director shakes her head as she chuckles, “I’m glad you were able to come along this time, Y/N. We’ll be back shortly.” 

You return to your seat near the fireplace and continue to eat your previously forgotten lunch as your mind wanders.

Namjoon has been having a rough time lately. The month-long break was meant to be a time for the band and company members alike to recharge and refocus themselves: go on trips, visit friends and family, eat whatever they want, sleep the day away. While on paper and in the headlines this seems like a fantastic idea, for a person like Namjoon, it was a struggle. He had been working almost without pause for nearly ten years. His love and dedication to his work is something that he takes pride in, even when it is at its most challenging. So to have a month where the expectations are not for him to produce content but to stay out of the studio, it caused its own form of anxiety for Namjoon. While you weren’t able to be with him due to your own job, you know that he tried the normal vacation things: trips to other countries, countless museums, walks with his dog and bike rides along the river, dinners with his family. He did all of that. He enjoyed all of that. However, at the end of the day, he felt like he was neglecting what he should truly be doing. 

You were able to join Namjoon for the last week of his vacation. He treated you to a trip that you had been wanting to take for as long as he could remember and ended it with a couple of nights spending time with both of your families. While you had been able to see his internal conflicts during the countless video calls you had with him and you tried to cheer him up, it was during this week when he opened up about how he struggled with the break. He confessed that he felt the stress building and almost guiltily showed you the notebook of lyrics, ideas, and deadlines he just couldn’t help but put into writing throughout the month. 

Now, you were allowed to follow the boys to New Zealand and spend some more time with Namjoon, albeit interrupted time. You have to respect the filming schedule for Bon Voyage. Essentially if there is a cameraman around–you should not be seen or heard. This is when BTS having seven members comes in handy. When some of the members go on an excursion or begin to do something ridiculous, that is when you and Namjoon can have some time to yourselves.  The crew usually goes to the bare minimum shortly after dinner so you can usually spend some time with the entire group at that point as well. Otherwise, it was very hit and miss. With that being said, you were provided lodging in the cabins near the campsite and got to see the beauty of New Zealand while spending time with your boyfriend so you can’t complain too much. At all, really.

Coming back to reality, you notice that over an hour has passed. You grab your bag and stop by the kitchen before heading toward the star of your daydreams.

You see the camera operator leaving the RV as you make it to the campsite. He nods to you in acknowledgment and holds the door open, gently closing it once you are safely on the interior steps. 

Namjoon doesn’t initially notice your appearance. His hands are in his hair, leaning over his notebook like a desperate college student trying to block out the nonexistent library noise after a regretful night of partying before an exam. You can hear faint sounds coming from his earbuds and can see the tension radiating off of his frame. 

It isn’t until you place the steaming mugs that you brought along with you onto the table that he registers that he has a visitor. 

“Thanks,” he says while scratching out something in his notebook.

“Anytime.”

Looking up for the first time, his surprised look quickly fades to one of curiosity.

“Babe?”

“Filming is over for a while. I got here right as he left.”

“I didn’t even see him leave.”

“Understandable. You were really focused.”

“How’d you know…”

“Everyone knows your here this afternoon, Joon. They announced it over the walkies. The director said they’d only film you for about an hour.”

“Ahh, yeah. I messed up their afternoon off.” He tosses the pen he has been writing with onto the table and leans his head back. 

“That’s not it. They know you.”

He opens his eyes to look at you in question. When you don’t respond, he sighs and finally takes a drink from his mug. 

“Have a seat?” 

You run your hand lightly through his hair before settling onto the bench across from him. You grab a book from your bag before taking a sip from your own mug and making yourself comfortable. 

“You’re not going to tell me to stop working?”

“Would it help if I did?”

A pause. “Probably not.” 

“Then no, I won’t.” You smile softly at him. “I’ll just read a little bit while you work. Maybe I can even help you think of a word or something when you can’t quite think of how you want to say it.” 

You take another sip of your drink before opening your book. The smile that Namjoon sends your way goes unnoticed by you.

After finishing a couple of chapters in your book, you stretch and take in your surroundings. Your feet have found their way onto the bench across from you so that your lower legs are resting against Namjoon’s thighs. Observing the man in question, he is in an almost identical position as he was when you entered the RV. You spend some time watching him: the tapping of his fingers against his head or paper, his grip on the pen, his mouth forming unknown words. Only after he lets out several frustrated sighs do you nudge him with your feet to capture his attention. He looks up and removes one of his earbuds; eyebrow raised in question.

“What about a change of scenery?” 

“What do you mean?”

“Why don’t we take this outside? The sunshine and view might help your ideas flow better. It is starting to get kind of stuffy in here anyway.”

He looks around reluctantly, “We could open the windows?”

“Namjoon.”

He sighs. “Alright. It wouldn’t hurt to stretch a little bit anyway.”

Grabbing your book and a blanket from the bed, you take his unopened water bottle and lead the way out of the RV. You glance around the campsite and find the perfect spot to sit. The two of you take your time walking the short distance to the pair of chairs set up near the lake, where you lay the blanket out in front of both of them. 

“Lay down.” You point to the blanket.

“Y/N, I didn’t know…”

“Don’t make it weird. Just lay down, please?” 

He grins and lays down on his back after setting his notebook, phone, and pen safely in one of the chairs. 

“Roll over.”

You sit down next to him as he does so before saying, “Oh, so you aren’t going to make that rated R?” 

He chuckles and a smile comes to your face when you see his entire body shake because of this.

“Take a bit of a break, Joonie,” you say. “Stretch out and relax for a few minutes.” 

He lays his head on his arms and looks at you with a smile. 

“That sounds good.”

“Hmmm,” you respond before kneeling and beginning to massage his back and shoulders. 

“That feels good.”

“Hmmm.”

The next fifteen minutes are spent with his eyes closed and your hands working their magic on the tension in his back and neck. The only sounds that can be heard are that of the surrounding wildlife and the occasional gasp or groan as you hit a particularly tender spot. You are content to continue for quite a while longer when you notice that his eyes are open and you can see the thoughts forming.

“I’m sorry.”

“What for?” 

“For this.”

Your hands stop their ministrations and you sit back so you can look at him better.

“What?”

He sighs and sits up as well.

“We can rarely spend time together. And whenever we can spend time together, my mind is elsewhere. That isn’t fair to you. Everyone else can go to dinners together whenever they want, stay at home to watch movies, spend birthdays at amusement parks. But you’re stuck with me, an idol that can’t be seen in public even if he had the time and energy to go out. A songwriter that sucks at putting his thoughts into words. A stressed workaholic that can’t find a balance between home and work, even after a decade. A boyfriend that can’t treat his girlfriend like they do in movies.” He grimaces. “We have to love on a schedule. And when we do find the time, it seems like you are always taking care of me. I’m sorry.” 

It takes a moment for all of that to sink in. In that moment, Namjoon seems to shrink into himself and looks down at his hands. 

You place a hand over his and use your other hand to guide his chin upward to look at you, finally resting it on his cheek. The unshed tears in his eyes are mirrored in your own.

“Namjoon, you have nothing to apologize to me for. I enjoy taking care of others. That’s why I do what I do for a living. The fact that I have this amazingly strong, ambitious, and responsible boyfriend that allows me to take care of him, makes me feel important. Special. We all have a lot on our plates and you are no different. The amount of expectation and responsibilities that you have is unreal. You have so many upcoming projects to balance along with the responsibilities of being a leader and brother to the guys. But you manage it and you succeed more times than not. And the amazing thing about you is that you take those times that you don’t succeed and create the most beautiful and inspiring work from it, whether you share it with the public or not.”

A tear falls as he shakes his head. 

“You are one of the most important people in my life, Joonie. Of course, I want to take care of you. Of course, I’d love if we could be together at all times of day and have that typical fairytale romance. But you know what? I absolutely adore what we have. It gives us both the opportunity to flourish in our own independence while also having the comfort of knowing that the other is just a phone call away. That distance…that makes times like this even more sweet and memorable. This relationship has not only brought me you, my prince charming, but it has also brought so many more people into my family. The guys and crew feel like my brothers and sisters. I hope that my family and friends are the same for you?”

He nods.

“So what if we can’t have dinner in the same room every night. So what if we don’t spend our birthdays together at arcades or amusement parks. That is what everyone else does. Let them be them. Let us be us. I absolutely love every single moment we have spent together. Every single trip. Every word. Every touch. It doesn’t matter if we are somewhere extraordinary like this or on different sides of the globe, speaking through the phone. I’ve loved it all. You are home to me.”

You kiss him gently on the lips.

“I love you. I love you the most.”

“Y/N, I…” Namjoon tilts his head like he can’t figure out what to say before he moves forward, capturing your lips in his once again.

“I love you, Y/N.”

Your smile is reflected on his face as you scoot to sit between his legs and lean into him. His arms come to wrap around you and he leans his chin on your shoulder. The two of you sit looking at the gorgeous scenery for an unknown period of time, sharing gentle kisses and touches, whispered promises. 

“You know, you can go ahead and work on your music if you want to. I’ll stay,” you say softly after you give him a kiss on the cheek.

“You sure?”

“Hmmm. If there is ever a time when I want or need your undivided attention, I will let you know. Just like I hope you would let me know. Right now though, I just want to be around you. It doesn’t matter what we’re doing.” 

“Alright.” He places a kiss on your temple before untangling his limbs from yours to stand up and retrieve his supplies. He soon returns, handing you the book you had been reading before laying down on his stomach and getting to work. You watch him for a few moments before making yourself comfortable, using his back as a pillow. You let out a contented sigh when you feel his back move slightly, signaling that he has started to write.

You’ll have to be sure to thank Director Hyangmi when you get back to the cabins for having the crew avoid filming near the lake once everyone returned. 

[thisdiscontentedwinter]

Bad Blood - Chapter 20

You can read it on AO3 or find the Tumblr Chapter Index here. 

___________

On Friday at around ten a.m., after a night spent in yet another rat-infested bolthole, Peter takes Laura and Derek to the John’s house. John has been working late, and is still asleep when Peter cases the place to make sure nobody is watching it, and then lets them in through the back door.

“Shower’s upstairs on the left,” he says, pointing.

Laura gives him the side-eye, but not for long. Her misgivings are slim indeed in the face of the promise of hot water.

Peter hums as he loads their laundry into John’s washer. Derek leans awkwardly in the doorway and watches him.

“Are we allowed to do this?” he asks when he catches Peter’s look.

“We’re not not allowed,” Peter decides at last.

Both the kids are showered and the laundry is on the spin cycle by the time John treads downstairs wiping sleep from his eyes.

“I need better home security,” is all he says when he takes in the three Hales at his kitchen table. “Is the coffee on?”

Peter winks and slides him a cup.

It’s… it’s temporary, this weird teasing thing between them. It’s the same game Laura and Derek played with their bickering about chocolate and hair dryers. It’s a forced distraction. There’s no foundation to it, Peter thinks, and there never will be unless he can deliver John’s son to him, safe and sound. If he can do that, if they can kill the Argents and save the people they want to save, maybe there will be something there to build on. At the moment it’s a crutch, and Peter knows both he and John can use one of those.

John sips his coffee and eyes them critically. “Did any of you sleep last night?”

“On and off,” Peter says, although it was more off than on. Being in an unfamiliar place made it hard enough to settle. Being in an unfamiliar place with the threat of hunters hanging over their heads? Well, the less said about that, the better.

“The sofa in the living room pulls out,” John says. “If you want to catch a few hours. And there’s a spare room upstairs.”

Peter looks to Laura.

She’s still for a moment, and then she nods.

Good. She’s read John’s heartbeat. She’s got the measure of him now. She knows he’s an ally, and possibly even a friend. Peter only wishes that he’d seen it years earlier. He knows John was right—there was nothing the Hales could have done to help him get Stiles back before now—but at least he wouldn’t have had to drink alone.

“Are you working today?” Peter asks.

“A late,” John says. “Starting at four, unless I get called in before.”

Peter pauses at that. He hasn’t asked John directly about the official investigation into Scott McCall’s death, but the murder of the teenager in the woods has been on the front page of the local newspaper every day since it happened, and Peter wonders how John intends to handle it. Or perhaps he intends to just ignore the speculation until some other lurid crime takes its place in the local headlines, and most people just forget all about Scott McCall.

John can hardly arrest the Argents for murder, can he?

As if they’d let that happen anyway.

John jolts as his phone buzzes. “Speak of the devil.” He takes it out of his pocket and quints at the screen. “No. It’s from Chris.”

Peter tenses.

“Gerard has brought in six mercenaries,” John says, reading from the screen. “The hunt is scheduled for Monday night.” His mouth turns down. “The warehouses on Elm.”

He sets his phone on the table.

“They know where we’ve been hiding?” Laura asks, her eyes flashing red.

“Process of elimination, probably,” John says. “It’s not a big town, and that Camaro you drive is pretty damn distinctive.”

Derek’s brows tug together worriedly.

“Okay,” Peter says. “We knew it was coming. Nothing’s changed. That’s six unknown hunters, plus Gerard and Kate, plus Chris—who hopefully won’t shoot—plus Stiles, who probably will if Chris won’t get him out of the way before then.”

“Three against ten,” Derek mutters.

“Four,” John says. “And I know a few tricks still.”

“So does Deaton,” Peter says. “He’s bound to have something up his sleeve to balance out the odds. We can do this.”

Laura and Derek don’t look convinced.

“We’re the Hale pack,” Peter tells them fiercely. “We’ve got this.”

***

They don’t have this.

John’s phone rings a few hours later, and he answers it. His expression tightens as he listens.

“I’ll be right there,” he says, and ends the call. “That was the station. I’ve got deputies responding to reports of shots fired at Gerard Argent’s house.”

Shit.

Peter feels the colour drain from his face.

They don’t have this.

***

The wail of the siren pierces Peter’s nerves all the way to Gerard’s house.

There are already two police cruisers in the driveway when John pulls up.  

The front door of the house is open, and Peter follows John inside.

There’s a deputy kneeling on the steps leading upstairs. He’s kneeling over someone fallen there, and the steps are slick with blood. Peter sees a massive smear of it along the wall, as though whoever has been shot was trying to get upstairs, a bloody hand out for balance, when they fell.

There’s a firearm lying at the bottom of the stairs.

“Parrish,” John says. “What have we got?”

“Two gunshot victims,” the deputy says, twisting around slightly to look down at them. His gaze lands on Peter and his brow furrows, but if he doesn’t know what the hell Peter is doing here he also doesn’t ask. “We’ve got a male victim here, and a female in the kitchen. Don’t know yet if we’re looking for a perp, or if it’s one of our victims.”

“Any witnesses?”

“Nobody in the house,” Parrish says. “Our only witnesses are the neighbours who called it in, and they didn’t see much. There are guns all over the scene, sir. A hell of an arsenal in the basement too.”

Peter cranes his head to see.

It’s Chris Argent lying on the stairs. Peter can hear a faint tachy heartbeart, but the man’s eyes are closed and his face has a sickly greyish pallor.

“You’ve cleared the house?”

“Yes, sir,” Parrish says. “And we’ve got EMTs en route.”

John leaves Parrish and Chris on the stairs and walks toward the back of the house. Peter follows.

The scene in the kitchen is much the same. There’s blood everywhere, and a body on the floor. Peter can hear the sounds of wet, laboured breathing.

There’s a female deputy kneeling over the body on the floor. She’s applying pressure to a wound. Her blue gloves are stained with blood.

“Sheriff,” the deputy says. “We need the EMTs.”

“They’re on their way,” John says. “Go and help Parrish. I’ll take over here.”

The deputy obeys.

John crouches down beside Kate Argent. He reaches into a pouch on his belt and pulls on a pair of gloves. Doesn’t press his hands to the wound in her chest. Just crouches there and stares down at her, as her eyes weakly try to regain their focus.

Peter growls softly, approvingly.

“Hello, Kate,” John says softly. “Where’s my son?”

She sucks in another wet breath. Blood bubbles out of her mouth on the exhale.

“You came into my house, and you took my boy,” John says. He’s almost whispering, and he sounds more dangerous now than at any time Peter has known him. “Where is he?”

Kate makes a small sound, her mouth twisting into an ugly smile.

“I suppose you can’t talk,” John says. “I suppose that even if you could, it’d be a fucking lie. You’re dying, Kate. You’re done.”

Kate’s eyes narrow, and her mouth moves as she slurs out the word: “Traitor.”

“Maybe so,” John says, “but at least I’m not a murderer.” Then he hums thoughtfully. “Well, up until now.”

He puts his gloved hand over Kate’s mouth and nose.

Holds it there.

Peter glances behind them to make sure the deputies are keeping busy with Chris.

In the distance, he can hear more sirens. Ambulances.

He looks back at John. He’s a million miles away from the man Peter flirted with earlier today, and Peter thinks: Yes. Peter is a left hand, but John? John is fucking avenging angel.  

Kate grunts weakly, and her legs thrash. She raises a hand and clenches her curling fingers around John’s wrist in an attempt to pull him away.

John doesn’t even flinch.

By the time the paramedics arrive, Kate is dead, and the sheriff of Beacon Hills is crouching over her, shaking his head as he tries uselessly to perform CPR.

***

The Preserve is beautiful in the late afternoon sunlight. Peter has always thought so. The light filters down through the trees at the edge of the parking lot, leaving dappled glowing spots on the ground. Inside, where the trees thicken, the Preserve will be cool and damp, and Peter’s skin itches with the urge to transform and run on four feet.

He squints down at the screen of Chris Argent’s phone as he hears the Camaro rumbling nearer. Of course Chris Argent is the sort of father who tracks his daughter’s phone through his. How useful.

Allison Argent’s phone is a few miles away, and it hasn’t moved in an hour. Peter’s too much of a pessimist to believe that means that Allison and Stiles haven’t moved in an hour. Most likely they’ve ditched the phone. But it gives them a starting point to catch their scent.

He walks over to the Camaro as it pulls up and Laura and Derek climb out.

“Kate’s dead,” he says.

Derek closes his eyes briefly. A breath shudders through him. When he opens his eyes again, a faint, cautious smile is playing around his mouth.

“Chris isn’t,” Peter says. “Yet. The neighbours saw two teenagers running from the house, and shortly after that the shooting stopped and Gerard’s SUV left as well.”

“Do we know what happened?” Laura asks.

“Seems like Kate and Chris had an argument,” Peter says. “Chris appears to have won. But there’s no sign of Gerard, and Stiles and Allison have bolted.” He holds up Chris’s phone to display the map. Allison’s phone is a pulsing blue dot in the middle of the green space of the Preserve. “Allison’s phone is here. Let’s go and see if we can bring the little Argents home, shall we?”

They head into the Preserve.

[lenaisanerd]

i know it’s expected that i be serene

When Clary texts Simon requesting Fullmetal Alchemist, he knows something's up. But Clary seems to be in denial, and so Simon dispenses the ultimate cure-all: Hanging out with her best friend. (ca. 3500 words)

tunes.

Read on AO3.

 This story was co-written with my darling @raisehades. Please enjoy the hard-earned fruits of many late-night Google Docs comment battles.

Clary: can i come ober

  Simon: Ofc

  Are u okay?

  Clary: yes i just want so talk and cuddle or something

  Simon: Okay. Want me to set up anything?

  Clary: fma? 2009?

  Simon: I gotchu

Simon was slightly worried.

First of all, Clary wasn’t usually this reserved in her texting. Her lack of exclamation points coupled with the request for her favourite show could only mean one thing: his friend was way more down than she was letting on.

But he would deal with that when she brought it up because, well, he was also happy; Clary and him used to do this a lot – go over to each other’s (parent’s) place to hang out and watch something they both more or less enjoyed and maybe even talk about their lives and their feelings and- stuff.

But ever since the whole… half-angel manic pixie dream girl mom reveal (the HAMPDGMR) and everything that went down in consequence of the HAMPDGMR, they simply hadn’t done this sort of thing anymore. Sure, they hung out with all their other friends, at parties at Magnus’ loft or karaoke night at the Hunter’s Moon. And while that was fun, it was different when it was just the two of them.

Even during their brief dating stint, there wasn’t much they did that they’d done as friends. Simon had enjoyed what they’d done together, of course, but looking back it had been obvious that this wasn’t ideal for them.

Ideal was this: Lugging the connector cable for the TV into the vicinity of his laptop, powering both up and then loading a site with English subtitles of Hiromu Arakawa’s masterpiece Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood.

Also ideal: Clary bringing weird snacks with unpronounceable names from the Polish bodega down the street from their old high school. That store had become their first stop after class when they were younger and would sneak candy into movie theatres or curl up on the couch in Clary’s living room and watch Audrey Hepburn flicks with Dot. Simon was almost certain he would be able to eat some and keep them down by now.

Well, actually, in a perfect world, Simon would have loved to cook something for Clary (the food at the Institute was a far cry from what any sane person would call comfort food. Or edible). But one of the results of moving out of his mom’s place just after he’d become a bloodsucking creature of the night was that he owned basically no dishes, or pots, or kitchen utensils.

Even compiling his stuff with Maia’s (who had lived next to a Chinese restaurant for her entire adult life) yielded five plates, one bowl, two chipped mugs, and somehow a ridiculously large amount of cutlery. So cooking anything more than a bowl of cereal was out of the question until they got around to buying some usable stuff. Simon could already see himself and Maia filling their birthday and Christmas/Hanukkah wishlists with basic household items for years into the future. Ah, the joys of adulthood.

Still, this was almost the Saturday morning of his dreams. In the past year, Simon had come to understand that while moments of normalcy were few and far between, when one came along they had to hold on tight for as long as they could. Which was exactly what he was planning to do.

“I’m telling you, Polish Bodega lady has to be a Downworlder. We just have to find out what flavor she is.” Clary started on her new favourite topic as soon as Simon opened the door. She draped her damp jacket over the back of a kitchen chair to dry, dropped a plastic bag on the table, and re-tied her wet ponytail.

Simon started rummaging through the contents of the bag. “Okay, one: I don’t like “flavors”, at all, two: how do you know she’s not just a normal human being who just happens to own a windowless shop where she basically lives 24/7? Oooh, you brought those weird milk drops!”

Clary had her back turned to him while she stretched as far as she could to reach the plates and mugs on one of the high shelves above the sink, not quite managing it. “She never sleeps. Sometimes I come by that store when I’m on patrol, and she must be there all night. Every night. And every day, too. Either she never sleeps, or she has at least two clones.”

“Maybe she has an identical twin sister.” Simon took pity on her and handed her the dishes. Clary took them and ducked out under his arm from between the sink and his body in one fluid movement. Then she set to digging through the fridge for some soda for herself, and a bag of A+ for him, hugging the plates and mugs to her body with her free arm.

“I think I caught her staring at my runes. She definitely at least has the Sight.”

“Oh, so your angel-ninja sense is tingling? Tell me, is there a type of demon that loves to disguise itself as an old lady and watch reruns of Polish soap operas?”

“There’s only so many demons that can be terrorizing Manhattan bankers at a time, you know.”

Simon let out an undignified snort of laughter, of the kind that, had he been drinking at the time, would certainly have made him exhale his drink through his nose. Clary stuck her head over the fridge door grinning triumphantly. Then she emerged fully from its depths with a bottle of coke wedged horizontally under her chin, the plates under her arm, right hand holding the mugs, and left hand holding the blood bag. Standing up was a precarious balancing act, and Simon rushed over to take the bottle from between her chin and collarbone. After he snatched up the bags of sweets from the table they continued their procession into Simon’s bedroom.

Maia and him had moved in together just after New Year’s, into a tiny two-bedroom apartment in Fort Greene. They had decided against sharing a bedroom, though, mostly because of their sleep schedules. As Maia had put it, one partner strangling the other because a certain vampire keeps making noise all through the night while a certain werewolf is trying to sleep is not very conducive to a healthy relationship. Of course, they often spend the night together anyway, although those weren’t the nights when they did much sleeping.

“Come lie down, thought you wanted to cuddle,” Simon said, sitting down on the bed and patting the spot next to him. Clary flopped down and threw her legs over his. Balancing the snack plate carefully on her lap she fluffed the pillows behind her and finally settled down.

It was several skipped episodes, an entire bag o’ blood, and a good two thirds of the coke later when Simon got to find out why  exactly  Clary was in such urgent need for Comfort TV Time.

“Did you know jat Ling’s name doejn’t need the ng sound at all? It’sh Lin in Japanese and”, Simon swallowed the milk drops, “the Chinese translation both, so they just changed it for us for some reason.”

“You’re going to regret eating those,” Clary said with such a comical expression of distaste on her face that Simon couldn’t help but laugh out loud. She rolled her eyes. “Suit yourself. I won’t mop it up, though.”

Simon was still grinning when Clary reached forward to pause the episode on a rather unfortunate still of Major Louis Armstrong in motion.

“Do you think Izzy would like this,” she said, suddenly serious.

“Who wouldn’t like Fullmetal Alch- ”

“You’re right. Of course she would. Continue.”

Simon took her vague gesture towards the screen as a command to unpause. About half a minute later she piped up again, this time not even bothering with the pause button. “Her favourite character would have to be Mei-Chang.”

“Really?,” Simon indulged, reminding himself that he had in fact watched this episode several times in his life(un-life?) already and could live (hah) with not catching every subtitle, “I would have thought Olivier, Lan Fan… or maybe Riza? One of the really cool badass ladies.”

“Izzy may be a really cool badass but trust me, she loves little girls with a passion for science. Did I tell you about that dinner party at Magnus’ place? She was off in a corner with Madzie all evening, talking about chemistry or something. It was adorable.”

“Yes, I – I don’t know how I managed to forget. You’ve told me about it... several times now.” Simon was quite proud of his wallowing pause here.

Clary said, “Well.” and when Simon looked over to her she was visibly re-invested in subtitles. He suppressed a fond headshake and decided to let her have this one.

The next time they got through a good fifteen minutes during which Clary only noticeably stopped herself from interrupting twice and Simon started quietly wondering if eating those drops was a bad idea after all.

“Could we invite her to something like this?”

“Izzy, you mean?”

“Ah, yes. I just mean, like, we’ve hung out at the Hunter’s Moon and the Institute and stuff but I don’t know, would she like just… watching anime? Snacking?”

Simon really did put up with a lot, huh. “I don’t know, what do you think?”, he said in his least exasperated voice and leaned forward once again to press pause. He looked over to Clary, who was searching through one of the bags of candy for the last red one with the utmost concentration.

“I think she’s probably never been able to do something like this but that… she’d probably like to try. And I guess it depends on the show if she’d enjoy it. Her attention span is better than ours’ for sure, though. Maybe I’ll ask her.”

“Instead of me?! I’m hurt, Fray.” Simon placed a hand over his unbeating heart and pulled what he hoped to be the most devastating pout since Shrek’s puss in boots. He probably didn’t succeed in that.

Clary repaid his efforts by hitting his shoulder. He whined out an ooow and curled up to smoosh his head into Clary’s side. Her shirt muffled his sigh, and she recoiled from his breath, pushing him away with a giggle.

“Simon, stop that! You know I’m ticklish!”

Instead of letting up, Simon wrapped his arms around Clary’s waist.

“Zis vasn’t my decision.” Simon was using his best Bela Lugosi accent. Clary’s eyes widened in mock horror and the corner of her mouth twitched upward. “You brought zis on yourself. If Izzy is going to be your new best friend now, you must face...ze octopus!” His legs wrapped around Clary’s knees while she wriggled and squirmed and laughed.

“Hang on, what do you mean ‘my new best friend’? Simon Lewis, you’re not suddenly getting jealous, are you?” Clary asked when she had successfully freed herself from Simon’s grasp and they were both lying on their backs, looking at the ceiling.

“Pssh. No,” Simon lied. Clary had the decency to look slightly guilty. “Maybe you just have a crush on Izzy, ever thought about that?”

He had expected a pillow to the face for that tease, or another assault on his shoulder, or a bit of banter. What Simon had not expected was Clary suddenly looking all serious.

“Huh. You know, I’ve never considered that. Thanks, Simon,” she said, and Simon was quite proud of himself for being as good at identifying sarcasm as he was, but he really and truly couldn’t tell what Clary was thinking then. As his friend leant forward to unpause their series he decided she must just be a bit tired of antics for today. Understandable, really.

Yesterday’s summer storm had turned into persistent rain. It pitter-pattered against the fire escape and the windowsill, occasionally cutting through the sound coming from the TV’s speakers. During the peak of the heat wave, Maia and Simon had opened all the windows in the apartment to let in a breeze and had jammed whatever was handy at the time underneath to keep them from closing. There was a guitar foot rest wedged in the crack of Simon’s bedroom window.

“Simon?”

“Yeah?”

“I definitely have a crush on Izzy.”

The pause button had never been pressed so quickly. It would have been a world record, if world record judges liked to hang out on rickety fire escapes peering through windows to see if random teenagers performed laws-of-physics-defying feats from the comfort of their beds.

Simon lay back down, face to face with Clary. She seemed way more casual than what Simon thought was appropriate for the situation.

“So…Izzy. Isabelle. Really tall, beautiful, kinda scary. Terrible cook. We’re still talking about our Izzy here?”

“Yep.”

“Huh.” Simon let that sink in for a minute.

“And, uh. How long have you known?”

Clary let out a hollow chuckle. “Consciously? About 30 seconds.”

Simon sat up. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Clary. I know you won’t like hearing it, but I’ve been your friend for over ten years, so I feel it is my duty to tell you this: You are such a dumbass.”

With a big sigh, Clary rolled over and buried her face in a pillow. Simon could barely make out her voice, but what she said sounded distinctly like a whine.

“What was that?”

Clary came up for air. ”I know.” Definitely whiny. With a very long vowel sound.

“I mean, you’re in so deep that I’m surprised you don’t need scuba gear yet.”

A groan.

Simon bumped her shoulder gently with his elbow. “Did I make you skip to the ‘wallowing in your own misery’ phase of having a crush?”

“No, it’s just...I can’t believe I never noticed.” Clary sat up, her legs crossed, facing Simon. “I only spent, oh, the last year with Izzy, every day. And– and looking back on some… things, it’s becoming really clear that I’ve had a crush on her for a while. And now I just feel like the biggest idiot in the world, and also what the fuck do I do now, Simon?” While she spoke Clary had let her head sink into her hands. Simon was of the opinion that they had just passed ‘wallowing’ and were well on their way to “breakdown”.

Simon leaned forward and, as gently as he could, pried Clary’s hands away from her face and held onto them for safekeeping.

“Hey, slow down, ‘cause this is bringing back really bad memories of pre-finals all-nighters.” This at least got a little smile out of Clary. “Now, can we back up just a bit to the ‘things’ you’re currently re-examining?”

Clary thought for a moment and then answered slowly, as though she was choosing her words with care. “Like, for example, why I love when she does my makeup. She’s really focused and just gets so close to my face and then she does that thing were she bites her lip and narrows her eyes, and sometimes I just want to lean forward and… kiss her?”

Immediately and seemingly instinctually, a grin tugged its way up the corner of Simon’s mouth. “Should I go get that scuba gear?” Clary rolled her eyes in response, but continued her recounting of Isabelle’s many virtues.

“And, uh, I always pick Izzy as a training partner, even though she does not go easy on me, because I kind of like when she kicks my ass.”

Simon only held in a dirty joke by viciously biting his own tongue. Clary was in distress. In distress.

His friend looked up at him from behind a strand of hair as if sensing his struggle but, judging by the nearly imperceptible untrackable movement of her eyebrows, refusing to acknowledge it. She headed on.

“Like, Izzy isn't really like anyone I've ever met before? And it's so - uh, exciting? Just to see her, like, do things her way. From the start she's made me feel like I belong, when, like, no one else really bothered to try?” Clary exhaled and shook her head. “I don't know. Maybe that's a bit much. I mean, what if we start dating and it immediately goes sideways? It’s just - we have too much history together. Maybe that doesn’t make any sense?”

Simon frowned. “No, I get it. She's really important to you.” He tilted his head to catch Clary’s gaze again. “And I know you’re really important to her. I don’t think one bad date could end your friendship. Also, you’ve known her for a year. If you want to call that ‘too much history’, I guess it might be, but when has that ever stopped you?”

Clary barked out a laugh. “Yeah, our relationship wasn’t exactly a success, though.”

“Okay, that’s fair, but Izzy isn’t me. And you aren’t the same you you were a year ago. Things are different.”

Clary looked ready to argue again, but kept quiet. Her body language was singularly vulnerable but her expression was more thoughtful than anything, brow furrowed tightly. She picked absently at her fingers which were still stained with oil paints, green and purple and gold. The rain continued its assault on the fire escape.

Eventually, after a long moment of silence, Clary stretched out on the bed next to Simon and, tugging at his shoulder, gently nudged him to lie down too. Clary tilted her head so it was lying against his shoulder and they lay there listening to the city they had been hearing their entire lives. But it was different now, wasn’t it? Simon had super vampire hearing and Clary had her angel ears and this wasn’t the city they had known anymore, because they knew what hid under the surface. But then, well, New York had never been the city they thought they knew. Simon had meant what he’d said: Clary had changed, and he had changed, and their old world felt lifetimes away. A year ago he would have said this was a bad thing. Today, he... wasn’t so sure.

“Should I tell her, do you think?”

“Hmm? What?”

“Izzy.”

“Oh.” Simon tried to get his train of thought off the existentialist detour track. “Uhh,” he said, intelligently, “I don’t know. Give me a sec.”

“Yeah, of course. Can you think while we watch?”

Simon nodded and Clary unpaused the episode. She propped her head up on her hand to get a more comfortable angle at the screen, and Simon’s eyes caught on the rune on her neck, right against the edge of her jawline. That was the first one, the healing rune that had seemed so out of place the night he’d found her by the church. By the Institute. Now, he couldn’t really imagine Clary without the runes, each a different part of her new life. There were the quick, simple ones Jace had drawn in the beginning, joined by the strong, decisive strokes of Isabelle and the slender script that indicated Alec, and of course Clary’s own hand, elegant and curving. Some for protection and some for strength, for courage and speed, fresh ones and older, darker marks. There was a story for every single one. A bit of experience. A battle won or lost.

He didn’t often dwell on this, but it sometimes occurred to Simon just how strong his best friend was. She had been through so, so much and come out on the other side a victor, maybe through luck, but also through sheer stubbornness. It was one of the things he loved (and sometimes loathed) about Clary. Simon was extraordinarily grateful that, even though both of them had lost a life, they had gained a new one, and one that had the other in it.

“Clary.”

She turned her head so she could look at him. One side of her face reflected the  flickering lights of the TV. “Yes?”

“I think you should do what you think is best. Trust your gut. You’re gonna be fine.”

Clary looked disappointed. “That wasn’t much of an answer, oh great oracle,” she said.

“Well, that’s the only one you’re gonna get. This oracle is closed for the day,” Simon replied. He crossed his arms over his chest to emphasize his statement. Then, very quickly and stumbling over his words a little, he added: “I just really respect you and I think you’re really smart and have good judgement, and you can sort this out for yourself. Also if anything goes wrong this means you can’t blame me, so–” The rest of the sentence was cut off by Clary rushing to hug him. Her shoulder banged into his chin rather painfully. He would, of course, not have it any other way.

“Thank you, Simon. I love you.”

Simon smiled into Clary’s shoulder. “Love you too, Fray.”

[doctoraliceharvey]

malice different dates prompt?

hi anon! thank you for the prompt! I put this in the modern flower shop au originally prompted by @thetucc, Our Own Hands Against Our Hearts, that you can read here (also on ff.net!) and the tag is here 

the story hasn’t gotten to these points (yet, lmao), but I’m working on it!

—

Coffee Date

“How can you drink that?”

Matthew paused before he could take a sip of his drink - black coffee with a little milk and two sugars. Eyeing the sugary confection in front of Alice, he gave her a slightly exasperated look.

“We’ve gone on how many of these outings, and yet you still ask that?”

She chuckled and Matthew smiled.

“I could ask you how you can stand that,” he nodded to her drink - some complicated order that had twice the amount of sugar he thought Alice would enjoy, but enjoy it she did.

“I have few indulgences these days between work and school, Matthew, this is one of them.”

“Looking at it makes my teeth hurt.”

Alice smiled, “You’re betraying your age.”

“The glasses I have to use to read the menu didn’t give it away?”

“Like we need menus these days,” she shook her head with a fond smile as the waitress brought their breakfast. They’d come here often enough that the staff put their orders through the second the walked in the door, and kept their usual table by one of the large windows free.

Matthew looked forward to their breakfasts together - growing more routine after her father’s birthday a few months ago and Alice opening up a little about her past. With her hectic schedule between balancing the shop and her dissertation, and business picking up at The Green Room, Matthew and Alice stole snatches of time to get away for a break - to get away from their respective shops.

He liked spending time with her, he liked her. As he watched Alice take a sip of that teeth-achingly sweet drink and heard her happy hum, Matthew hoped these coffee dates would continue.

Movie Date

Matthew looked up from the floral arrangement he’d been working on to see Alice utterly enthralled by the movie playing on his iPad. She slouched over the table, chin on top of her hands, her blue-grey eyes wide with wonder at the moving pictures cross the screen. Her long red hair - usually pulled back in a braid or a bun - fell free over her shoulders and back in waves nearly to her waist; Matthew fought the urge to reach out and touch it. (It looked so soft and shiny in the bright, natural light of the back room.) Busying himself again with the flowers, Matthew smiled at the sense of rightness to have Alice beside him while he worked. He loved having her around - sometimes she’d read aloud from books (catching him up on his current “to read” pile, ones she thought he’d enjoy, or going over passages she needed for her dissertation), or she’d type away on her computer (a little furrow of concentration between her eyebrows as the screen reflected off her glasses).

He didn’t always watch movies while working, but Alice was having a rough go of it lately with Stardance Books still trying to run around construction and renovation while they expanded the shop, and her dissertation defense date loomed closer with each passing day. She’d stopped by The Green Room - anxious and wringing her hands; Jean sent her to the back room and Matthew knew just how to distract her.

Alice hadn’t watched many movies - only a few newer ones on the occasional “girl’s night in” with Mattie, so he let her peruse those he had on his tablet while he worked.

“Y’know, I’ve never watched these,” she mused.

“Which ones?”

“These,” Alice pointed to his tablet.

“You’ve haven’t seen Star Wars?” he looked at her incredulously, a smile starting to form on his face with her slight flush.

“No.”

“Never?”

Alice’s cheeks flushed further as she narrowed her eyes at him. “That’s usually what ‘no’ means, Matthew.”

“Right, that won’t do. We’re watching it.”

“Hang on, you said I could pick the movie!”

“That was before you said you’d never seen a classic!”

They fought over the iPad - laugher and light pushing abound, Matthew didn’t really put up too much of a fight, he was too glad to see Alice relax and forget about the outside world for a bit. Alice won with a well-placed elbow to his ribs and he winced as she pulled the tablet towards her.

“Since you’re making a big deal of it, I suppose we’ll watch it.” She queued up the movie - after some guidance on which one to start with (“Why start with number four? It makes no sense.” “That’s just how you watch it, Alice, trust me.” “Ugh, fine.”) and soon settled into A New Hope.

Matthew watched her with a fond smile as he continued working on floral arrangements for Susan Tyneman’s latest fundraiser. The work was monotonous, but Alice’s questions (pestering, really) about the movie and characters helped pass the time.

Plus, she looked adorably frustrated whenever he told her “You’ll see” to her questions about the plot.

Play Date - Matthew and Alice babysitting the Blake kids

Alice leaned against the door jamb of Ella and Abbey’s room as Matthew started to wrap up the bedtime story for the girls - funny voices and hand movements included. The Blake girls were watching their godfather with wide eyes, covers pulled up over their mouths as he got closer to the end.

The newest member of the Beazley-Blake clan fussed a bit in her arms and Alice rocked him gently so he wouldn’t disturb the girls’ story time. When Simon wouldn’t calm down, she slipped away to the kitchen to get him a bottle. He nuzzled against her as she rocked him - humming a random song and resting her cheek on top of Simon’s head to soothe him while she got his meal ready. The thump of Matthew’s cane made her pause.

“I can take him, if you’d like, Alice.”

“I’ve got it. Have the girls gone to sleep?”

Matthew rubbed the back of his neck, “Eh, not quite… they wanted to say goodnight to Auntie Alice.”

Alice felt her cheeks grow warm as Matthew grinned. “Never been an auntie.”

“First time for everything?”

“Maybe,” Walking over to him, Alice gingerly handed Simon over to his godfather (Alice was his godmother - another first). “His bottle is ready, I’ll go say goodnight to the girls so they go to sleep on time.”

“Thank goodness Lucien isn’t here, I swear he riles them up.”

—

Alice laughed softly, running a finger down Simon’s cheek as he settled against Matthew. Leaning in to press a kiss to the baby’s head, Alice whispered, “I’ll be right back.”

Matthew watched her go with a fond smile, even as Simon let out a squeal. “Alright, alright, little man, let’s get some food in you.”

Grabbing the bottle, Matthew eased down into the rocking chair in Simon’s nursery with a groan. His godson latched onto the bottle with glee - his big blue eyes taking in everything around the room as he ate. Rocking them gently, Matthew smiled. Simon was a quiet child, taking after Jean more than Lucien (both Ella and Abbey had been rambunctious when they were younger - still were) and Matthew enjoyed these moments with the little guy.

He always enjoyed babysitting duty - even more now with Alice helping him out. The girls adored her (and her books), and Simon had latched onto her from the beginning (despite Alice’s apprehension about the children seeing her as too weird). Seeing her with the Blake kids made him smile - and a small traitorous part of his brain daydreamed about Alice with another kid, their kid, with inquisitive blue eyes and Alice’s bright red hair.

It would never happen, Matthew knew; it was a far-fetched daydream that would never come to pass. They weren’t at that stage of relationship - if you could call it a relationship. Both were busy with work; Alice now had her P.hD and Stardance Books was still under construction, business for The Green Room was booming with more orders coming in as summer approached, and Alice was busy helping her sister with wedding preparations in Sydney.

They were friends - best friends, even - and yet more than that. Matthew and Alice teetered on the edge of perhaps being more, but neither had taken that plunge after months of coffee dates, movie nights, and taking care of the Blake kids. And yet, yet, his imagination still tormented him with dreams of Alice - the feel of her skin, her lips, her hair. He woke, wanting her, needing her, and he vowed to work up the courage to ask her out.

Eventually.

The subject of his thoughts entered the nursery with a fond smile, “The girls are asleep - finally. I had to tell them another story before they’d settle down.”

“Another one? Oh, they’ve got you wrapped around their little fingers, Alice.”

She shrugged and put a towel over her shoulder as Simon finished his bottle, “They’re cute.”

Taking his godson from his arms, Alice burped him while Matthew stood with a sigh. She expertly cleaned up Simon and laid him down in his crib as his eyelids started to droop. Matthew rested his hand at the small of her back - his cheeks warming when Alice gave him a smile over her shoulder.

“Alice?”

“Mm?” She soothed Simon as he stirred - Matthew’s hand sliding from her back to her hip as she leaned against him.

“Thank you for helping me with them.”

Alice wrapped an arm around his waist and pressed a kiss to his cheek, “You’re welcome, and I enjoy these babysitting nights.”

Resting his cheek against her hair as they watched their godson sleep, Matthew smiled. “Me too.”