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preciousthingsareprecious · 3 years

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Bad Night, Good Knight

@damianwayneweek day 3: That Wasn't Supposed to Happen

I'm playing a little loose with the prompt since the thing that wasn't supposed to happen takes place before the fic starts but you know what? Sometimes you just want to write a few pages of Damian reacting to a bad patrol instead of experiencing it (and also experiencing more bad patrol).

Summary:

After what Damian would consider a fairly disastrous start to patrol, Spoiler takes over and helps him work out some of the stress and frustration he's still feeling.

AO3 Link

Damian kicked his feet out, letting the heels of his boots hit against the brick behind them. He shifted a bit, so he was leaning back on his palms. Below him, the city sparkled on a rare clear night. The city looked bright, glittering almost like Bludhaven did after the rain.

His thoughts were not as carefree or bright. Damian focused on his breathing, attempting to still his heart as it continued to race, even well after the anti-toxin had kicked in. He kept his eyes on the buildings, on shadows moving behind curtains, and an owl that fluttered by. It was much better than closing his eyes.

Closing his eyes meant being back in that warehouse. It meant not knowing the difference between truth or fiction. If the hands on him were friend or foe. It meant worrying--thinking-- believing he’d gotten his family killed.

Sharp pain raced up both wrists and he hissed, pulling forward to lift the weight off them. Careful, Damian tugged at his gloves and pulled them off to examine the skin underneath. His wrists were ringed with red, bruised, with slightly raised lines here and there. Left over from the ropes he’d been tied with for the better part of the night.

“Tt.” he turned his hand over, displeased that he’d come away so affected, in mind and body.

“I’ve got some cream for that.” Stepahnie’s voice preceded her by a moment as Spoiler dropped to the ledge beside him.

A purple glove held out a small bottle to Damian which he took, and eyed. It was what she’d said, bruise cream, the container about half empty, but with plenty left for Damian to use.

“You keep this on hand?”

She shrugged, “You never know when you’ll need it, for us or civilians.”

He hummed, and popped open the top, a light citrusy scent tickled his nose. Stephanie waited while he applied the cream to one wrist, then the other. It made things feel better almost immediately, if only because it felt cool and soothing.

“Thank you.” he said, capping it and handing it back over.

Stephanie ruffled his hair, “No problem.”

Damian scowled and leaned away from her hand, but she followed him, truly messing up his carefully styled hair. Well, it had been carefully styled before they’d left for patrol. He had no idea how it looked after being nabbed by Crane and dangled as bait for the rest of his family. His hair hadn’t been at the top of his priorities for the past few hours.

“Where are the others?” he asked, attempting to keep his tone casual.

“Batman’s wrapping up with Crane. Hood’s already left to finish his route. And Nightwing’s back at the cave resting, and has been for a while. The others are where they’ve been all night.” She mimed dancing and drinking tea, “At the gala we got lucky enough to miss.”

Damian’s heart twinged at Nightwing. He wanted to ask further about Richard, but Stephanie’s tone seemed to indicate he was fine. Still, tone was not enough to still the worry in his stomach. The last he’d seen of Richard was the man sitting up, bleary eyed, with blood trailing down his forehead. And then Damian had been dragged too far away to see him at all.

“Is he--” the words slipped out before Damian could stop himself.

“Wing’s fine, Robin.” Stephanie’s voice softened, “I found him after you disappeared, and he’s been home since under A’s careful eye. Argued up a storm over not being allowed to come help find you, but eventually B talked him down.”

Damian nodded, injured Richard would have only been a further liability in the field. Damian had already made himself enough of one by being captured, Father would not have wanted any more sons in danger.

“And are you here to return me home?”

“Do you want to go home?”

He shook his head.

“Then I say we continue to patrol. Bruce isn’t the boss of us.” She stood, and reached a hand down to Damian, “Come on, grab those gloves, we’ve got stuff to do.”

Damian let a smile slip across his face, the first all night, “Excellent.”

Stephanie took point on their route, and Damian was happy to let her. He wanted action, and movement, and whatever they could do to help shake the fear still lingering over him.

They started by stopping a mugging.

Together, Spoiler and Robin dropped down behind the two men, and broke them up. Damian distracted one, dancing around him to force him to move away from the woman they’d been terrorizing.

Behind the guy, Damian watched as Spoiler kicked over the other man, and he stayed down. Damian ducked a wild swing from his own opponent, and threw a punch at the man’s open side. It landed and sent the guy stumbling backwards.

Damian let his attention slide back over to where Spoiler was. She was leading the terrified woman away from danger. Good, that’d give Damian room to really move if he needed to.

He traded blows with his opponent, before leveraging himself off one of the nearby buildings to slam his feet into the man’s chest and take him down. Damian zip tied him, and stood, turning back to search for Spoiler and the woman again.

Instead he found himself face to face with the other thug. The man loomed over him, and Damian froze. Fear raced through his chest in a sharp wave. He was back where he’d been earlier that night, surrounded by green gas he couldn’t stop breathing in and facing down an enemy too big for him to deal with while Nightwing was hurt, on the floor behind him.

Damian knew what was going to happen next. He’d try to lure the man away only to be knocked out by a lucky swing from the guy’s bat. Then he’d be caught. Dragged away from his family. Trapped. He’d--

Purple flashed across his vision as Spoiler jumped in with a high kick that cracked the man’s jaw so hard Damian heard it clearly. The sound snapped him out of his haze and he lurched back into action. Together, they took the guy down in seconds.

When they were done, Brown eyed him but didn’t comment beyond, “I’ll call it in, let’s keep moving.”

While Spoiler’s voice rattled off the crime and location over the comms to the GCPD Damian mentally worked out how to get them back on their regular route.

They patrolled for another ten minutes, swinging from building to building and occasionally stopping to sweep a street. Worried meows of a cat caught Damian’s ears. He froze, then scanned the street.

It was a residential one, lined with apartments and old trees that climbed close to buildings. After a moment a high, young, voice followed one of the cat’s noises.

“Chance, please get down, boy. I can’t climb up there!”

Damian and Stephanie exchanged looks, then together they moved in the direction of the noises. It was obvious after a moment that Chance, a tabby, was stuck not in a tree, but on a jutting portion of roof overlooking a child’s bedroom window.

The voice belonged to a little girl, with braided pigtails and Wonder Woman themed pajamas. She was leaning precariously out of her window and waving frantically at the cat. At the sound of vigilantes landing on a nearby tree, her attention shifted, and blue eyes widened at them.

“Robin! Batgirl!”

Stephanie winced and muttered, “Spoiler, but close.”

She elbowed Damian indicating he should be the one to rescue the cat. He rolled his eyes behind his domino.

“Don’t worry.” Damian said to the girl, “I’ll get Chance down for you.”

Somehow her eyes went even wider, as if she couldn’t imagine how he might know the cat’s name, despite having yelled it out moments before.

Careful, Damian climbed from the tree to the building’s roof. Then he made his way across shingles to the cat, terrified and clinging to its spot on the roof.

“Here boy,” Damian murmured, slipping a treat from one of his utility belt pouches (Father had once told him that animal treats were a waste of a good space, if only he could see their usefulness now), holding it out to the frightened cat.

Well, Chance seemed to be still a kitten. A growing one, but he had not reached full adulthood yet, which was probably why he was so hesitant to jump the easy distance into the girl's arms.

Damian waited patiently for the scent of food to overcome the kitten’s fear, and when it was distracted enough, he scooped the creature into his arms, and let it have the treat.

He hooked his grapple to the roof and lowered himself carefully down to the window. The girl eagerly reached for her kitten, and Damian made sure she had a secure hold on the creature before fully releasing it.

“I would suggest against opening the window late at night, even a little bit, Chance is still small enough to wiggle through and get stuck again.” he said.

She gave him a serious nod, and then, “Thank you, Robin! And thank Batgirl too, you’re both so cool.”

Damian smiled at her, “Have a good night, you and Chance.”

He pulled himself back up to the roof and then rejoined Spoiler in her tree. The two waved at the girl, and jumped back into patrol.

After that they stopped to help a woman unloading groceries from a late night shopping trip, walked an inebriated young man home, and shooed off teens eager to graffiti a food truck. They were all easy tasks, and somehow they never turned to another mugging or robbery. Damian did not realize that until he was standing beside Spoiler as she helped change a flat tire with the surety of a pro.

“Spoiler,” Damian said, after the car was on its way back down the road, “Are we going to stop any more crime tonight, or act as errand boys for Gotham’s late night citizens?”

“Errand boys and girls.” Stephanie corrected, “And we’ll stop crime if we see it. O hasn’t phoned anything in where we’re at yet, and it’s good to be helpful. We’re preventing crime, rather than stopping it.”

It was a smooth, practiced answer. Like she’d heard it before when questioning Batman or Timothy on a previous patrol. Damian let it slide for the moment, intent on keeping a careful eye out for other crimes.

His hesitance earlier would not be repeated, he would make sure of that. He would prove that he was fine. That the shaky feeling in his chest when he breathed was exertion, not lingering fear or embarrassment over his earlier predicament.

Only, they continued with the easy tasks. They waited with another Gothamite who’s car had overheated, until the tow arrived. Then they found a box of puppies and took them to a local shelter Damian recommended.

Finally Oracle called in an alarm going off at a convenience store nearby where they were patrolling. Damian moved instantly towards it, unwilling to let Spoiler pull him back again.

She didn’t say anything, only fell in beside him as they made their way over to the store. When they arrived, four men were exiting the building in a hurry. One of them carried a register they’d grabbed, two of the others had a huge burlap sack carried between them, and a third carried a smaller one heavy with whatever they’d taken from inside the store.

Damian swung down, a wrecking ball of force and frustration. His feet slammed into the chest of one of the men carrying sacks. The man went flying, the contents of the bag scattering across the concrete around him as he landed.

Before the other three could really figure out what was going on, Damian had turned away from the thief he’d taken out, and was already throwing a batarang at the guy carrying the register. It caught his hand and he yelped, dropping the register with a crash.

By that point, Spoiler jumped into the fray, her cape flowing out in a huge swoop meant to blind the men still on their feet.

Damian turned back to the guy who’d dropped the register and threw himself at him. The element of surprise had faded at this point and the men were rallying, but Damian was trained well, no matter what his failure earlier that night had pointed to.

He swept the man’s feet out from under him in an arc, then came down on his stomach with his elbow.

As Damian stood, someone grabbed him from behind, and hauled him up. Damian scrambled, and grabbed at the hand but whoever had him didn’t seem to care about the way Damian’s fingers scratched at him. Before he knew it, Damian was tumbling backwards, thrown down not into the ground like he’d expected, but into something soft that caught him just before the hard concrete.

One of the bags the men had been using to steal from the shop closed around him and Damian felt his heart speed up. He tried to shove himself up, darkness closing over him as whoever had grabbed him tightened the strings on the large sack. But his hands couldn’t get purchase on the bag. It was taught with his weight, meaning there wasn’t a good area to grab at.

He kicked and shoved, his brain whiting out as the idea that he was trapped closed over him. No. Not again . This couldn’t be happening again. He couldn’t have failed a third time tonight he--He couldn’t breathe.

And then the bag swung. Damian’s stomach lurched, with the movement. He braced himself as best as he could, curling tight to protect himself before the bag slammed into the ground. The impact broke his curl as his knees and elbows cracked into the hard ground and he gasped with the pain of it all.

The only good thing he could take about the jarring action was that it had shaken him from his stupor. Body aching, he dug a batarang out and sliced the bag open. He tumbled out as the man lifted the sack again for a second attack.

Damian rolled over to push himself back to his feet. His arms were shaking, his chest tight. Something curled in his chest that felt vaguely like unshed tears. Damian couldn’t quite name the emotions tossing themselves around his head like he’d been tossed helplessly in that bag, but none of them were good or a call to get up and fight.

Behind him, he heard Spoiler grunt, followed by the smack of weapon against skin, and a thud. Then, for the second time that night, Damian found a purple gloved hand reaching out for him.

“Need a hand?”

He squeezed his eyes shut, but took her hand and let her help him to his feet. His head swam slightly, but otherwise he was fine.

“Thanks.” he murmured.

“No problem.” She said, giving his hand a quick squeeze before letting go.

Damian busied himself tugging the unconscious men towards each other and tying them up, while Spoiler made their second call of the evening.

“If you’re ready, I’ve got our next location locked in.” Stephanie said, as Damian stood.

He wasn’t. He was pretty sure the only thing he was ready for was bed. To curl up, safe and sound, with his face pressed into Titus’s flank thoughts of failure long gone in the comfort of home. Instead of admitting that, Damian nodded. He was Robin, and he’d be as useful as possible as long as their patrol lasted. Even if he seemed to keep freezing up. At some point he’d get over it. He always had during training back in the League, eventually he got over his fear. This was no different than that. He just had to keep pushing.

Spoiler led them both to a playground. It was known for late night drug deals between some of Gotham High’s more affluent teens.

The playground was large. It had a swing set with six swings, a couple seesaws, those little animals on springs, and a sand pit. To top it all off it had a huge sprawling play place in the center. Tire swings hung off it, monkey bars and rope bridges connected portions of it. Three slides of various types came off it in different areas. It even had a little rock wall for enterprising kids to use instead of the other stairs to climb up.

“What are we doing here?” Damian asked, looking around.

“Acting as deterrents. Oracle said she’d heard some chatter about a meet up tonight. I figured two vigilantes camped out should be enough to make any wayward teens think twice.”

Damian nodded, relieved that they wouldn’t be moving directly back into action. Mentally he berated himself for that, if he were to get over the night’s failure he needed to be more proactive, not less.

Damian followed Stephanie to a spot on the play place where they could look out onto the park. Stephanie leaned up against one of the walls and Damian kicked his legs over the edge eyes scanning the park.

“So.” Stephanie said, “Ready to talk about it?”

“Tt.” Damian pulled his legs up and towards his chest.

She had given him long enough to calm down a little from the night’s events, and while he was still shaky, the effects of the toxin had at least seemed to fade a bit.

“It was--unpleasant.” he admitted.

He pressed his eyes closed, remembering. On a good day it was not fun to be captured and held as bait. They had an in-joke about how Robin held the honorary title of boy hostage, but in truth none of them enjoyed that role. Robin’s duty was to protect Batman, and being held against him was the exact opposite of that.

But Damian had been held hostage, and used against his family.

He’d been taken on what should have been a routine investigation of a shady warehouse. He, Nightwing, and Spoiler were just supposed to look. Instead, once the three had split up, Crane had attacked. Damian made it to Richard before anything too terrible happened to his brother, but he hadn’t been prepared for the toxin, hadn’t been prepared for the number of goons.

It was pure luck that Crane had only taken him. Though, Damian now assumed that to be Spoiler’s doing, showing up before both Nightwing and Robin could be taken. As the lightest, of course they’d grabbed Robin.

“I--” he started, and shook his head.

Stephanie knew what it was like to be taken. What it was like to be under the effects of Crane’s toxin. He did not have to explain how he’d struggled to escape or the panic that had laced his chest when his family had arrived to rescue him and he’d watched as they fought, were cut down, continued to fight, and were cut down again. His worst fear of them dying because of him playing out on a loop until Father managed to administer the anti-toxin.

Stephanie laid a hand on his shoulder, “It’s never fun to be taken by someone you’re trying to stop, and even worse when they hurt you because of it.”

He squeezed his arms around his legs, old feelings of embarrassment at being so vulnerable tried to claw their way out of him. And another feeling rising up, protectiveness over them, guilt over being why they’d been in danger.

He shook his head again, “I do not care that he hurt me. I put the family in danger. Father, you, Todd. Richard.” he admitted, “You were led into a trap because I was too weak to defend Nightwing. Too slow to catch onto the toxin in the room. I failed, and you all could have died because of it.”

He trained his eyes on the swing set, unwilling to meet his sister’s gaze. He was being far too open with his emotions, but--the talking helped. Stephanie and Richard had drilled that into his head.

Talking. Trusting. Letting himself fall so they could catch him.

But? Should he if it put them in danger? Tonight seemed to blow a wide hole in all those promises. Richard was home, injured, and all because he’d trusted Damian. Stephanie had saved Damian three times this night alone because of his own inability to be better. How many falls were too many?

“First of all, you didn’t fail. No more than any of us did when Scarecrow made his first attack. We were all caught off guard. You were just a little more unlucky than we were.”

“It was Nightwing they attacked.”

Stephanie leaned over, so her face was in Damian’s field of vision, hair hanging over a shoulder, “You protected him. Got him a mask, and kept them from taking him instead. I’d say he was pretty lucky to have a little guardian Robin looking out for him.”

“Tt.”

She poked him in the arm, “Don’t tt at me, you know it’s true. Would you rather Nightwing not have had you there?”

“Never!” Damian spun on her, and Stephanie grinned with victory. She’d tricked him into looking her way.

“There we go, now we can have a proper conversation.”

“We were talking.” he huffed, but maintained eye contact.

Stephanie reached out and cupped his cheek, “You were the one we were worried about. Did you forget that we want to protect you just as much as you want to keep us safe?” She brushed a finger across his cheek, and he felt the spark of pain where a goon had hit him to wake him up.

“I--”

“You matter.” she said, reading his mind, “Your health and safety is as important as the rest of ours. It’s okay to be rescued from time to time.”

He huffed, “I know. But knowing does not help the frustration. I am supposed to be better. Be worthy of Robin and able to protect you all. Instead I was--I was-- helpless.” Just saying the word brought heat to his eyes, tears pricking at him, begging for release.

Stephanie tugged him close, into a hug, “It’s okay.” she said, a hand in his hair, “It’s hard, I know, but you’re allowed to be vulnerable, Dames.”

He sniffed, blinking back tears, “No names, Spoiler.”

She scoffed, squeezing him a bit tighter, “There’s no one out here to hear.”

Damian huffed, but did not pull away from the embrace. It was nice, resting like this and letting Stephanie play with his hair. It made the tight feeling in his chest ease. Knowing she was fine, that he was fine, that things would be fine.

After a moment he pulled away, running a hand under his nose. Stephanie let him, and they settled back apart, both at the edge now. They were quiet for a while after that, the minutes ticking by in peace.

Then, they saw a car pull up into the lot at the far end of the park. A figure climbed out of it, and started making their way towards the park. They hadn’t seemed to realize that Robin and Spoiler were the one’s camped out in the park yet, and actually raised a hand to wave.

Stephanie winked at Damian and raised her own hand in response.

“Let’s see how long it takes him to realize who we are.” she whispered.

Damian smiled, and chuckled lightly.

The young man pulled out a phone and started messing with it, typing something into the screen as he moved forward. He made it almost all the way to Damian and Stephanie before he looked up. When he did he froze, staring at them, mouth agape.

Stephanie waved again, “Hi. What’s a good kid like you doing in a park like this so late?”

“I--” he said, and Damian thought he looked a bit like a catfish, blinking and startled, “Nothing.”

“Well, Mr. Nothing, I suggest if you don’t have any important reason for being here, you head home.” Stephanie said.

Damian gave him one of his most unsettling smiles, sharp and toothy, “Yes, this park isn’t safe after dark, and we wouldn’t want you getting hurt or into trouble.”

He looked between Spoiler and Robin and seemed to decide that whatever deal he’d had planned for the night was not worth bothering two vigilantes over. With a sharp nod and a “yes, yeah, good idea.” he scurried off, half running half tripping his way back to his car.

“Drive safe!” Stephanie called.

After he was gone, Stephanie broke into a fit of giggles and Damian followed soon after, her laughter infectious.

“Alright.” she said, after a minute, “Let’s go get something ridiculously greasy and terrible for us, as a reward for a deed well done. Then after I say we head home. ”

She stood and held out a hand to Damian, “Unless you’d rather do ice cream?”

He took it and let her pull him to his feet, “Fast food sounds perfect, lead the way Spoiler.”

#Damianwayneweek2021 #Damian Wayne #Stephanie Brown #hurt/comfort #angst #fluff #kidnappings #scarecrow #fear toxin #post fear toxin #a bad patrol #but a good partner always makes it better #Steph is a good sister!#Damian is a good brother #Precious Posts #fanfiction

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sepublic · 3 years

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Amelia’s Alzheimer’s?

From what Owen Dennis told us, Book 5 of Infinity Train would’ve been a movie, covering Amelia’s takeover of the train… Which, I don’t know if Book 5 would’ve gone over her takeover, AND her eventual arc post-Book 3, but; I believe the implication is that like Book 4, this movie would’ve been a pure prequel, set in the past. A good look and further contextualization of Amelia’s past sins and how she got into the headspace she now has, in order to set up for a future Book where she finally gets her proper arc.

That leaves just three other books… One about Guilt, the next about Revenge, and the last of Acceptance. Book 5 is about Grief fittingly enough, and we know that Book 8 (Acceptance) would’ve delved into a passenger with alzheimer’s, whose condition would’ve kept them from engaging with the Infinity Train’s intended function properly. Owen Dennis mentioned how this final season would’ve been based on his own experiences with his grandfather, who had a similar issue in the past.

It’s easy to assume that Book 8 would’ve been about a whole new character, which leaves either Books 6 or 7 for the resolution to Amelia’s arc- But what if that’s not the case? The Book 8 protagonist would be pretty old, presumably, so…

…What if Amelia was the Book 8 protagonist? What if, by the end of the series, Amelia’s age would’ve caught up to her, and she’d start developing alzheimer’s- Further complicating her attempts to get her number down, especially when she can no longer remember Alrick like she used to!

Think about it- Amelia as the final protagonist would be a neat book-end to the series, given how we began with her as the final antagonist of Book 1. The show starts and ends with Amelia, who alongside One-One and Samantha the Cat (and arguably Randall) are basically the core, central tenet characters of the entire show. The resolution of Infinity Train is the resolution of Amelia, who serves as the passenger most entwined with the train, having once been its conductor even!

Not only that, but with how Amelia’s character serves as a means of criticizing and showing the fallibility of the Infinity Train, how she’s able to game the system, how she works in a place to criticize One-One’s direction with it… And her having to deal with alzheimer’s could continue that theme of Amelia’s character being a commentary on the flaws of the Infinity Train, if it can’t account for her memory loss!

Amelia’s memory loss would be difficult to work with, if we’d only gotten to know her in just Book 8; But now we have Books 1, 3, 4, and 5 (at the very least!) to bring background and context to her life-story, and it’s a LONG one too! Setting up Amelia’s past in great detail, going into the intricacies across the entire show… It could be setting up the audience to remember all of this, when Amelia herself can’t- So we can get a better idea of her frustration, of how she ended up here when Amelia herself is confused, etc.! We gain a deep and intimate understanding of Amelia’s past for her, in preparation for the memory loss of Book 8.

Owen talking about how Book 8 would’ve been based on his own experiences, watching his grandfather deal with amnesia- From a meta sense, the audience could serve Owen’s role! We’re the younger people, watching Amelia, our favorite old lady, grow across the series… We get attached to her, she’s basically like family, so naturally it hits harder to see her lose her memory. It’d be a meta way for Owen to really capture what he experienced in real life, by having the audience take his position when observing the character of Amelia.

From an in-universe standpoint, perhaps Hazel could serve as the proxy for Owen! She’s more or less Amelia’s daughter in the technical and arguably figurative sense- We don’t know exactly how their relationship would progress, and the last time we had hopes of Found Family for Hazel, it didn’t quite work out… But regardless. Perhaps Hazel, as a kid with relation to the older Amelia, would’ve gotten to grow up with her surrogate caretaker, learn to value and appreciate her and vice-versa; And then we see from Hazel’s pained perspective, the loss of Amelia’s memories. Perhaps Amelia losing her memories of her times with Hazel, even!

This could tie Amelia and Hazel’s stories together, especially with how linked the two are, with Hazel resulting from Amelia’s failed attempts to bring back Alrick! And Hazel has a few of Amelia’s memories- She remembers taking ballroom dance lessons, because Amelia was drawing upon those memories when trying to recreate Alrick. Hazel could serve as a young guide to comfort Amelia, a genuinely emotional connection, someone who remembers what Amelia can’t, in the absence of Alrick.

Book 8 would’ve been about Acceptance- AKA the final part of the 5 stages of Grief, when dealing with the death of a loved one… And Grief is the theme of Book 5, Amelia’s origin story! Amelia would accept the death of Alrick at the end of Book 8, and perhaps Hazel could learn to accept the death of Tuba and another family member in Amelia… In the sense that yes, Amelia is leaving her too- But Hazel will learn to move past Tuba’s death, and perhaps her own experience can help Amelia as well. They can grieve for Amelia’s memories, for Alrick, etc.

It’d also be an interesting and frustrating challenge for Amelia- As someone who no doubt has at least some pride in her intellect and mind, having her own mind start to degrade… It’d really put her into an interesting headspace, and force Amelia into that acceptance of what is inevitable, that some things she really can’t change. And of course, this could deal with theme of acceptance, of how Amelia clings to her past with Alrick; Having her memories of him start to fade could really shake this up, and force her to re-evaluate her life and values, her priorities… Perhaps decide to instead focus on the Now and Future, accepting that her past with Alrick is not only long-gone, but possibly due to be forgotten. That she can love and appreciate what it did for her, but Amelia has no choice but to move on- Even without those memories, without that past, she still has a future with Hazel and everyone else to keep living for.

For all we know, Samantha the Cat could even come into play here! She’s someone with access to people’s tapes, among them none other than Amelia’s- And before she gave it to Simon, Samantha also had the ability to create new tapes from passengers on the go. Samantha is a long-lived denizen, at least about 150+ years old, she’s lived and seen the entirety of Amelia’s reign, and was likely there since the very beginning; Owen Dennis did allude to Samantha being present in Book 5… Specifically, he suggested that us seeing Samantha kill someone was a possibility, amidst One-One or Amelia committing murder instead; And that of course suggests that, regardless of whether or not the Cat kills someone in Book 5, she’d still be a prevalent character.

Samantha having that past with Amelia, and her own conniving nature, could possibly lead to her conflicting with Hazel, perhaps recounting memories differently, or trying to tell them in a way that’d sway Amelia to her side, who knows? It’s also worth noting that she’s someone who has regret and loss in Simon… So perhaps if she served as a central cast member for Book 8 (befitting my point about Amelia being a book-ends kind of character), Samantha would’ve learned to accept the death of Simon, and/or help Hazel and Amelia move on as well. It’d be a fitting and appropriate farewell, I believe, to have Amelia and Samantha, two main-stays since the beginning, have their arc at the very end of the series.

And Hazel? Hazel could be representative of a new generation, to step up and take the mantle passed down. One-One’s own input would be fascinating, because like Samantha and Hazel, he has quite the past with Amelia, and a lot of significance and understanding of her sins. And with his control of the Infinity Train, I can see him attempt to recreate Amelia’s destroyed tape, or even try to create a new tape for her, to try and get around Amelia’s memory loss. The Infinity Train selectively deciding which memories it only thinks are important could lead to disagreement with One-One and conflict, exposing the flaws of the system- And/or, the Infinity Train might come across a roadblock because it can’taccess Amelia’s memories anymore!

This could be a culmination for One-One’s arc as well, as seeing his failure to account and accommodate Amelia’s alzheimer’s, leads him to decide to make MAJOR reforms to the Infinity Train as a result! Maybe he’ll even stop the whole process of kidnapping passengers (while still letting the denizens function and roam freely). Him and Amelia have an unusual, kind of at-odds but not really, sort of frenemy relationship; They’re working together, they’ve been enemies, they’ve collaborated, each was the reigning conductor at one point. We could have Samantha as someone with negative recollections of her time with Amelia, One-One with overall netural ones, and Hazel with positive associations! Three different people with different pasts and interactions with Amelia, to provide their own input on their time with her, and thus help her rediscover her past…

…Or, at the very least- Come to terms and accept who she is, and finally move on. And, it goes without saying that Amelia’s dilemma with her huge number could be complicated by her Alzheimer’s, if she can’t remember things- And it’d be interesting to see how it might fluctuate, if at all. Perhaps Amelia’s progress actually gets pretty good, but THEN the memory loss begins to kick in, and that frustrates her. It’d teach the lesson that progress is not linear, that sometimes you might backtrack, you might think you’re so close, only to have retread the same path… And sometimes you’re tired of the journey and just want to get to the destination, to the final stop at the end of the railroad. We could have Amelia learn to accept help from others, to not try and seize control for herself as all-powerful Conductor, to gain some humility amidst her pride in her own ability and intellect…

We could have Amelia awkwardly navigate the train without her memories, stumbling across and slowly figuring out what needs to be done in order to lower her number, with just the number’s movement as an indicator, and no memories to work off of! Her only hints are whenever her number moves to a certain situation, so Amelia really has to work backwards… Through trial and error, figure out what needs to be done; Perhaps a callback to Grace and Simon, who had no guidance and struggled with figuring out what their numbers expected of them.

It’d be an interesting book-end to THAT point, especially since it was Amelia who unknowingly contributed to Grace misinterpreting the function of her number, so then having Amelia rectify this with herself, learning to properly figure out what her number means, and then accepting that without going into denial like Simon did… It’d really show the growth of her, but also the series, and of course the fact that Grace and Simon were literal kids, and Amelia is a seasoned adult. And of course, there’s the existential questions, if Amelia is a different person without her memories, if those sins still apply if she can’t remember them anymore, if she’s essentially disconnected and detached, etc.

We might see Amelia operate without any memories of her grief with Alrick, see how she is without that- And it might concern and frustrate Amelia, because she could conflate moving past Alrick, as being the same as getting rid of him truly… And the memory loss certainly doesn’t help. Who is she without her memories? It could lead to an identity crisis that echoes back to Book 2’s themes. Amelia without memories might learn to rediscover herself by looking into her past, perhaps existing without recollection, just this number she slowly figures out how to lower. Perhaps having a new, more detached/objective look at her own past, from a perspective as someone who doesn’t remember them, so it feels like the recollections of a stranger- It might contribute to Amelia really coming to terms with happened, with herself, and finally Acceptance.

It really could be the culmination of the series; With how the age of protagonists for each Book gets progressively older, Amelia’s elderly age and Alzheimer’s would’ve been the end of the line, the final stop/destination for the train. It’d make Amelia the central Passenger of the show, who we’ve been following since Book 1, watching her progress, in a sense seeing her grow up- And then finally seeing her grow old and suffer from Alzheimer’s. The journey of the Infinity Train could be the journey of Amelia, from her boarding the train, to the final destination, literally and figuratively. It could tie into the arcs of Hazel, Samantha, and One-One, and finally deconstruct the Infinity Train with an outsider who did exactly like that!

What do you guys think? I think it’d be quite the experience to watch Amelia grow and struggle as a person, so it really does feel personal and intimate to us, when we know her memories, only for Amelia herself to lose them... A fascinating, bittersweet study and journey of Amelia, but one we accept, because the journey made the destination worthwhile.

#infinity train #infinity train amelia #amelia hughes #infinity train hazel #infinity train one one #infinity train samantha #samantha the cat #speculation #theory #meta #infinity train book 8 #owen dennis #alzheimer's

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stray-kids-react · 4 years

Text

SKZ reacting to edits of their new male member

Masterlist

...

Bang Chan

° It was a Chan's Room vlive, and fans were thrilled to ask him about you. Chan read through the thousands of comments about the new member, but one link caught his attention particularly.

° He copied the link quickly, whilst explaining his first impression of you when you joined the band. Gushing over how quiet and nervous you seemed, especially when you were around Chan himself.

° Once the video started, it had cute gifs and videos of you doing soft aegyo while the sweetie pie song played over it. Chan thought that'd be the whole video, but he was sadly mistaken once the song changed.

° A flustered giggle left Chan's mouth as his ears turned bright red, feeling as though he shouldn't be watching this. It was as if he just walked in on you changing, it just made him feel very embarrassed and flustered.

° Once the 1:34 second video ended, a long pause filled the live. He tried to gain composure after what he just witnessed, but his shy state of mind was still very clear amongst the fans who were watching.

"That was great editing... *giggle* I don't think I've seen y/n in that way before."

Lee Know

° It came up on his YouTube recommendations, as he was watching crack edits fans made of him and his members. Minho never saw an edit made to show the duality, except for ones of him.

° He honestly wasn't fazed at all by the edit, approving of your sexy side. He soon watched other edits of the members and gave them each a like. Minho was the one who sent you the video, with a smirk emoji.

° You knew it was either something to make you flustered or something very random. That made up most of your conversations with Minho through text, especially if he had the smirk emoji after the link.

° The next day, a sly smirk will be plastered all over his features. Mimicking the moves you made in the fan made edit, even going as far to make Han play the song in your edit as he mimicked you.

° Won't ever let that edit go, just because he loves how flustered you get by it. He'll giggle at you when you cover your face, feeling proud that his hot stage presence has rubbed off on you.

"I am sexy, you are sexy, let's be a sexy team together. What do you say?"

Changbin

° While working on their comeback with you, Changbin got a notification on his laptop. The thumbnail was you with devil horns and a halo. His curiosity got the beat of him, so he clicked on the fan made edit of you.

° Changbin could only smile nervously when the hot edits came into play, many involving hip thrusts and grinding. He felt very uncomfortable, mostly because he saw you as brother more than anything else.

° It made things 10× worse by you being in the room with him, watching the edit next to him. Both of you at loss of words, never thinking that either of you would be in this type of situation together.

° Changbin began to chuckle at how weird things felt, asking you to promise him that you'd both forget this ever happened. Even thought it will probably haunt both of you for the rest of your career together.

° He continued on working on different side tracks for the album, both of you chuckling randomly at the reminder of what you had just witnessed. But both of you promised to not tell the other members.

"Lets promise to try and forget we watched this and not tell the members about this."

Hyunjin

° Both of you were quite close and showed and each other everything, whenever a hot edit of either of you came across your phone's. Both of you would just laugh it off, amused to see either of you so serious.

° Both of you know that fans will find you hot, even if you don't see why in certain situations. Neither of feel uncomfortable with seeing edits of each other, knowing it is simply part of being an idol.

° That still won't stop either of you from laughing when you see clips of each other with sensual music over it. Hyunjin laughs especially hard if he knows the clips and what actually happened behind scenes.

° There was one clip of you drinking water and fans went nuts, even though they always seem to cut out the scene where you choke on the water because of Jeongin's very effective aegyo.

° Hyunjin can make a big out of it, usually laughing with a slightly disgusted face. But he means no harm when doing it, he just wants to play around with you and knows you would do the same with him.

"Y/n, why do change so drastically whenever you wear an opened shirt on stage?"

Han

° Tries to act like he isn't fazed by the fan made videos of you that Minho is showing him, but he is and it shows through his blushing cheeks. His way of dealing with this is to try and laugh off the awkward tension.

° He thought that bringing it up to you would make it more awkward, but he found out that seeing you clueless as you why he keeps looking at you with a surprised glaze over his eyes is much more nerve racking.

° The next day you'd confront him on being so award around you, asking what you may have done to make him uncomfortable. Instead of avoiding the topic, he just admitted to watching a fan video of you.

° You laughed uncontrollably at his confession, after so much worrying that you offended him or made him un easy. Instead, he was just flustered by how hot and sensual you were in the fan made video.

° He promised to not make you worry anymore, and will not trust anything the Minho sends him with a smirk emoji. You both look back at that whole scenario and still laugh at how silly it truly was.

"I promise not to make you worry again, or answer Minho when he is smirking."

Felix

° Everyone knows Felix is a king of duality, so he honestly isn't that fazed when he sees edits like this of you. He will however become giggly and a show off his sunshine smile, but that's only because it's you.

° It's strange for him to see you as a sensual sex appeal, when you were the same person who cuddled him when the power went out during a bad storm. And also cuddles him daily to his appreciation.

° Isn't fazed by fan edits, but can get uncomfortable when it comes to people Iver sexualizing you. Such as trying to see how big your dick is through leather pants or only calling you just a sexy visual.

° He won't bring up the edits to you unless you show them directly to him, he knows how it feels to be embarrassed by sexy edits. Mostly because of natural and human insecurities, and knowing it is made public.

° Felix won't tease you about your edits, even though he giggles when witnessing one its only because he sees you as a cuddly teddy bear. He won't hesitate to try and hide any overly sexual content of you from the public.

"Don't worry about it, me and jyp will find a way to delete that post. Stay calm."

Seungmin

° Will hype you up in a soft way, he'll cheer quietly when reacting to an edit and even clap when it ends. Seungmin is just proud to see how far your stage presence has come, and it happy that you were able to debut.

° Doesn't try to see these edits as sensual videos, rather than the fans appreciating your visuals and amazing presence. He will however get a bit bashful if the clips aren't from stage performances.

° Cheers you on cutely when you do a sexy dance for the fans during concerts, giggling afterwards when you become a bashful mess and hide behind someone... Usually Hyunjin because he's the tallest.

° Prefers you softer edits rather then your Spicy ones, mostly because there is a less chance of being flustered and becoming red with the softer edits. Even if sometimes they make him cringe on the inside.

° Seungmin is your shy hype man that is honestly just so proud of you, and isn't ashamed to tell you how proud he is of you. He loves how fans welcomed you to the group even if you debuted later than the others.

"Y/n worked so hard to get here, and I feel like a proud brother by just watching him."

Jeongin

°Jeongin is a the maknae and it truly shows during almost everything, from his natural aegyo to his charming stage presence. However it also shows when he playfully teases you for your fan edits.

° Jeongin won't take it too far, but just enough to make your ears turn red. He enjoys seeing you become so flustered over something you did. It makes him confused but also very satisfied.

° Jeongin doesn't like the sexy edits as much as the cuter themed ones, but will still use them against you nonetheless. But that's only ever yo get a reaction out of you and show you how much fans love you.

° He gets bashful from hsi edits, and will beg on his knees for you not to play them. He just can't stand watching himself being sexy or cute with everyone around it watch. It feels different on stage however.

° He'll feel bad if you get very shy from an edit, so he'll hug you as an apology and bribe you back to trust with some snacks. You adore Jeongin's behaviour, seeing him as an adorable brother to you.

#skz smut #stray kids #kpop #changbin #skz scenarios #stray kids reactions #han jisung #hyunjin #jeongin #lee know #bang chan #felix skz #skz seungmin #skz reactions #skz requests

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emerald-amidst-gold · 3 years

Text

Writing Tag Game

Thank you so much for the tag @noire-pandora! <3

Time to show people just how much of a baby I am in the fanfic world~! >:3

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

A total of ten! Mainly because I lump drabbles together for easy access!

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

....273502 words so far. :3 I like words. Words are good. Words are friends.

3. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Emerald Eyes Amidst Golden Vows (the very first rendition!) - 48 kudos

Emerald Eyes Amidst Golden Vows - Bound Brighter - 24 kudos

A Dragon’s Hope - 15 kudos

Dragon Drabbles - 13 kudos

Poetry of Wolves - 11 kudos

(Honestly, the progression of style change in each of these fics is terrifying to me. I look back on the last one, and I’m like, ‘Oh my god.’ X’D)

4. Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I do, on occasion, respond! Though I may use a lot of words while writing, when it comes to communication? I suck. XD But, I do get extremely, extremely excited whenever I see a comment in my inbox, and I do go back and re-read them when I’m feeling down about my writing! I usually respond when a person asks questions, but I try to read them as rhetoric since I don’t want to spoil too much! X3 So, to everyone who has left me comments on my fics: THANK YOU. I do really appreciate and adore them. :3

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Many of my short fics (those ranging from one to two chapters) all end relatively happy. I like angst, but I also enjoy making characters that are usually somber and stressed a little lighter. :3 If we want to get technical, then the first several chapters of my main fic all have rather angsty endings because the beginning of Fane’s journey is...heh. It’s not easy, and it’s not supposed to be.

Although, now that I look, a very old fic of mine called ‘A Dragon’s Guilt’ has a rather angsty ending. Basically, Solas’ frescoes in the rotunda send Fane into a momentary spiral, and it was me playing with Adamant possibilities before he was ‘set in stone’. Panic attacks and mixed memories galore! :D

What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

*rifes through my fics* Uhhhh... All of them? :3 Okay, okay! No, if I had to choose it would have to be...one of the short stories in ‘Dragon Drabbles’. It’s a four part story (and my first hand at smut >:3) that’s titled ‘Existence is Not a Sin’. It starts off angsty, but by the end it’s so sweet, so sickeningly sweet that I’m like, “...How did I write this?” X’D ...I’m actually thinking of re-writing a lot of my previous fics just to see if I’ve improved with writing! :D

Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve written?

I do not write crossovers, but I’m open to the idea! Sadly, my brain hyperfixates on one thing at time, so my imagination is limited. X’D

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

I haven’t, and I’m very grateful that I haven’t. To be honest, when I started writing and posting, I expected to get hate (prepare for the worst, you know?) because I was doing something that wasn’t really the ‘norm’ for a lot of people. After all, people are entitled to their own interpretations and mine some times don’t link up with someone else’s. I understand that, and I respect that, but some people...don’t offer the same courtesy. All I’ll say is, if you don’t enjoy my content, don’t read it. We’re all adults, so shrug your shoulders, say, “Not for me”, and move on. Just know that if you do leave a hate comment, you will receive no reply, no fuel. So, don’t waste your time and don’t waste mine. Simple as that. I’m here to share and make people smile, not argue. :3

Do you write smut? If so what kind?

I have. Once, and I for the life of me can’t figure out how to do it again. X’D I’m very into soft intimacy; gestures and actions that speak a thousand words. Close positions (missionary, straddling, etc.) and a lot of eye contact with some healthy crying in the mix. *winks* I’m kind of inching towards a theme of ‘body worship’ when it comes to Fane and Solas because those two.. *sighs* They really need to shown that they are beautiful people; inside and out.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I have not. Thank God. XD All I’ll say is this though, you steal my fic, my son and claim them as your own? *gets close to the screen* I will track you down and demand a talk. Don’t steal other’s hard work. Don’t. Writing is not easy, and it takes weeks, months, years for authors to pump out their inspiration, so don’t steal that labor just because you want to say you could. Same goes for drawings and pieces of art. Don’t.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

I haven’t! English is my first language, but I understand some French! :D

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, I haven’t, but the idea is intriguing to me sometimes! I’m just a tad unreliable due to how my mood ebbs and flows. I have very long dry spells. X’D

What’s your all-time favorite ship?

Solavellan! >:D While I write solely M!Lavellan/Solas, I do support all genders and orientations for the ship! Because I didn’t get into the ship because of what I saw, it’s what it meant to me.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

*side eyes my main fic* LISTEN. It’s coming! I swear. I’m just having intense writer’s block with my main fic, and I’m not sure why. That’s why I’ve been messing with prompts and drabbles. X’D There’s also my modernAU, too.. *sweats* TIIIIIME! WHERE ARE YOU?!

What are your writing strengths?

Describing emotions. I like emotions. Emotions are nice. :3

What are your writing weaknesses?

Dialogue. Mainly because Fane...doesn’t speak much at the beginning of his journey. He’s very curt, short, so I have hard time incorporating other’s reactions to him. I’m getting better though, I think! :D

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I’m for it! Sometimes that little splash of altering dialect can draw someone in and establish a connection! Language connects us, and it’s never too late to try and learn so as to reach out to another! :D

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Dragon Age, my beloved~

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

A short story of mine called ‘Blood in the Snow’. It was one of my very first fics and it was the first time I was like, ‘This Lavellan is my muse. I can do so much with him.’ It was just so fun to write a vulnerable moment for Fane, but still keep him locked up. ...It was also where I went, ‘Oh. This is Solavellan Hell. I wasn’t meant to go there, but I DID.’ X’D

Tagging: @oxygenforthewicked @little-lightning-lavellan @dreadfutures @the-dreadful-canine @rosella-writes @aymayzing @drag-on-age @varric-tethras-editor and anyone else that’d like to play! (no pressure, of course! <3)

#did i get a little harsh with a few of the questions? perhaps~ >:3 #art theft and hate comments are touchy subjects for me XD #art can be critiqued but it has to be productive or at least civilly worded #don't come at someone just to make them feel like shit #and shall i say; i've only been writing fanfic for a year #A YEAR #not even actually #*looks back* ...#my first fic was in december of last year so yeah. not even a year yet #*laughs nervously*#tagged #about me

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master-sass-blast · 4 years

Text

Gifted.

*tosses escapism fic into the void* yeet.

Summary: You and Piotr go Christmas shopping and enjoy the holiday season.

That's it. That's all that's happening. You're welcome.

Pairing(s): Piotr Rasputin x Reader and mentioned Illyana Rasputin x Kitty Pryde.

Rating: G.

Word Count: 2k precisely.

Set after “It’s Truly Magical.”

A/N: On the off-chance someone asks or is worried, yes, there are no mentions of masks or social distancing in this fic. That's because, in this fic, there is no COVID (ergo, no need for masks and such). I'm just not dealing with it in my fanfic as well. I won't. You can't make me.

Wear your fucking masks irl pls and thank u.

Taglist: @marvel-is-perfection, @chromecutie, @girl-obsessed-with-things, @super-darkcloudstudent, @dandyqueen, @leo-writer

“What a bright time, it's the right time/ To rock the night away/ Jingle bell time is a swell time/ To go glidin' in a one-horse sleigh…”

You inhale deeply, then smile. The smells of fresh pretzels and pine –the latter is likely a fake scent that the stores use, but it’s still good—tantalize your nose. You tuck your hat and gloves in your purse, then look over at your husband. “Where all are we going?”

“Ah…” Piotr scans his list –which has notes on which stores to check and what order the stores are laid out in the mall, so as to streamline things. “Kitty said she did not want gifts because she does not celebrate Christmas, so we are just shopping for… my family and Russell. You said you already bought gifts for your dad and Wade?”

“Yup,” you say with a grin. Nate’s easy to shop for –ammo, clothes, and the odd book or two are usually all he want—and for Wade you just find the weirdest stuff listed on Amazon. “And I already sent my uncle a gift from us, so we don’t have to worry about him.”

Piotr nods, ‘hmm-ing’ as he makes a note on his list. “Okay.” He mumbles in Russian under his breath, then says, “Mama had no list this year; I think we start with her first since figuring out gift will take longer.”

“That’s fine. Where should we start?”

“I think bookstore is best bet. From there, we can stop by Hot Topic and candle shop for snezhinka, then Game Stop for Mikhail.”

“Sounds good.” You link your arm through his and smile up at him. “Lead the way, babe.”

***

You glance between the piles of books on the table, then at your husband, who looks like he’s about to pull his hair out. “Do you think that, just maybe, you’re overthinking this? Just a little?”

“This is important,” Piotr insists as he skims through books from various areas of Barnes and Noble –cooking, history, fiction; he’d grabbed at least one book from nearly every section. “She has specific tastes. Cannot be just any old book.”

You purse your lips together. You don’t doubt that Alexandra has particular tastes in reading material –as a woman from her walk in life is bound to have—but you’re also certain that she wouldn’t want her son driving himself insane just to pick a present for her. You sit down next to Piotr and gently put your hand on his arm. “Sweetheart. She’s going to like whatever you get her.”

“Not necessarily. I have seen her toss many books aside with scoff and never pick them up again.”

“Okay, why?”

He shrugs. “Realism. She thinks some authors are ‘too indulgent’ or ‘too unrealistic.’”

“Alright, so maybe we leave out the crime and romance stuff,” you suggest, setting the few books he’d grabbed from those areas aside. “What does she like to do?”

Piotr goes quiet. His expression grows ashen as he contemplates the question. “I… don’t know.”

“Does she like to cook? Or draw? Or watch certain types of shows or movies?”

“I don’t know,” he repeats, more insistent. “She…” He sighs. “She never sits still. I don’t think any shows or movies interest her. When I was child, she always worked. On farm, taking care of animals, helping workers, making food, balancing accounts, translating letters and schoolwork… I never saw her rest. Do something for herself.”

You let out a soft snort. “Maybe a book on meditation.”

Piotr rolls his eyes, grinning. “Perhaps not.”

“Who does she like to be around, then?”

“Otets.” Piotr smiles when the answer comes easily. “She and my father” –he holds up two crossed fingers—“are like this. Aside from siblings and me, I think he is only person she is really close to.”

“Alright, maybe a cookbook, then. That’d give them something to do together.”

Piotr nods, then starts looking through the cookbooks he’d picked. “Question is, which one?”

“Well, we know she likes to stay busy and keep moving. Maybe something that’d challenge their skills? Something they haven’t tried?” You hold up a book boasting ‘rich and authentic Middle Eastern recipes.’ “This could be good. I think they’d have access to most of the ingredients, here in New York.”

He nods again, then sets the aforementioned book aside before checking over the other ones. “I think…” He lifts a hardcover thriller novel off the table. “She likes mysteries. This one has good reviews… maybe…”

You gently take the book from his hands and set it atop the Middle Eastern cookbook. “I think it’s a great choice.”

He smiles, then kisses your cheek. “Spasibo, myshka.”

***

“Bozhe moi.”

You giggle as the two of you step over the threshold of the Yankee Candle store, only for Piotr to recoil and take a step back. “You good there, baby?”

He presses his fingers against the sides of his nose. “Is like… assault of smells.”

“I know.” You inhale deeply, them flash him an impish smile. “Isn’t it great?”

Piotr groans, still rubbing his sinuses. “Do you mind—”

“I’ll find a candle for Illyana. Wanna meet up in Gamestop?”

“Spasibo, dorogoy.”

You blow him a kiss, then head into the candle store. You take a couple minutes to peruse the holiday display at the front of the store –and grab a couple votives for you and Piotr to enjoy—before heading towards the back of the store, where all the shelves of their regular candles are. You pause to smell your favorites –seriously, the McIntosh apple one never fails to make your mouth water—before taking a step back to survey your options. Alright, what to get for a mildly angsty, queer Russian goth?

It’s not as straightforward as it sounds (har har). Illyana’s an enigma, much like her mother. She’s quiet, keeps to herself, and doesn’t usually bother with convention.

Do I go for aesthetic? You pick up a pitch black candle labeled “Midnight Forest” and give it a cursory sniff. Ugh, smells like ass. No, thank you.

You also have to consider that whatever you get is likely going to be smelled by Kitty, too. As much as Illyana marches to the beat of her own drum, she’s surprisingly conscientious of her bubbly, energetic girlfriend.

Maybe something natural? Like the farm? You try a few options, wrinkling your nose after each sniff. God, what is it with the fresh scents and smelling heinous? You debate texting Piotr and dragging him back in here, if only so you’re certain you’ll get something Illyana would like—

And then it hits you over the head like a brick.

She’s gonna use these for meditation. You head down the rows of shelves, grab a jar labeled “Vanilla,” and give it a smell. Perfect. Not too strong, not too bland. You grab a lavender scented tumbler (for relaxation), then snag a pink one that smells like the perfume Kitty favors on a hunch it’ll be a hit.

By the time you pay for yours and Illyana’s candles, Piotr’s already waiting outside the Gamestop for you, bag in hand.

He eyes your bulging bags, eyebrow raising in trepidation. “Why…”

“Look, it’s your fault for abandoning me,” you say before he can point out your lack of self-control. “You know I’m weak for candles.”

Piotr snorts, then sighs. “Fair enough.” He nods and makes approving noises when you show him the picks you made for Illyana, then shows you what he grabbed for Mikhail.

“‘Mister Mosquito?’” You nearly double over laughing. “What even is this?”

“He wanted ‘weird video game,’” Piotr says, shrugging one shoulder. “I figure this should do.”

“He’s gonna love it,” you reassure your husband. “That’s weird as shit.” You start strolling along the main hall of the mall –and then your stomach rumbles. “Can we get pretzels?”

“Da, myshka,” Piotr chuckles, “we can get pretzels.”

***

“There'll be parties for hosting/ marshmallows for toasting/ and caroling out in the snow/ there'll be scary ghost stories/ and tales of the glories of/ Christmases long, long ago…”

“It’s the most! Wonderful time! Of the year!” you sing along as you rip another chunk off your pretzel. You smile to yourself as you admire the glittering, twinkling decorations decking the food court. “How’s your pretzel?”

“Very tasty.” Piotr dips a bite of his pretzel in some mustard, pops it in his mouth, then swallows before wiping his fingers on a napkin. “I think we only have handful of stops left.”

“Couple of sweaters for your dad… weird socks and-or scarves for Mikhail…” You lean over, reading off the list in his hand (which is written in a mixture of Russian and English). You take another bite of pretzel, then tap on a portion of blended “Russi-nglish” that you can’t decipher. “What’s that?” you ask once your mouth is clear.

“Random gift options,” he translates. “For filling out presents, stockings, that sort of thing.” He touches the tip of his index finger to the page, moving down the list in order. “Chocolate, books, gift cards. Guaranteed hits, essentially.”

“Ooh, I could go for some chocolate.”

Piotr snorts. “You just had pretzel. And this is for others, myshka.”

“If it’s in the car with me, I make no promises.”

He laughs, then makes an extra note on his list. “Safety chocolate… for myshka. Got it.”

***

“Here, dorogoy.”

“Oh, thank you!” You smile as Piotr takes some of the excess bags from your hands, shifting them so he can carry them (which, with his strength and the size of his hands, is no problem at all). You amble along next to him, admiring the various pop-up stands boasting games, calendars, and Christmas-themed treats. “Is there anywhere else we need to stop?”

“I believe we have everything.”

“And I’m guessing we need to head home so we can make dinner?”

“That would be best, da.” Piotr looks down at you, expression curious. “Why? There is somewhere you wish to stop?”

“Eh, not really,” you say with a shrug. “I just like coming to the mall during this time of year. The decorations, the music, the extra stands and seasonal gifts… It just makes me happy.”

“Aah, khorosho. I understand. We can come back later for date, if you like. Take time to walk around and admire stores.”

You grin up at him. “I’d like that.”

The two of you make to head out of the mall, back to the parking lot—

And then Piotr veers towards the right.

“Where are we going?” you ask, giggling as he leads you towards the bookstore. “I thought we already got everything we needed from here?”

He winks at you. “Trip is not complete yet. Not with hot chocolate, anyway.”

You grin and let him guide you over to the café in the bookstore.

Piotr gets you situated at a table near the expanse of windows at the front of the shop. He leaves your bags with you, then leads up at the counter to order your drinks.

You smile, lovestruck as you gaze over at him. How did I get so lucky? You lean back in your seat, taking a moment to admire the snow falling outside before checking out the decorations throughout the store…

Which is when you realize that there’s mistletoe hanging over your table.

You chuckle to yourself. Perfect.

“You are in good mood,” Piotr comments as he returns with two cups of hot chocolate.

“Of course, I am,” you admit with a broad grin. “I’ve got you. And tradition’s on our side.”

Piotr’s smile turns quizzical. He cocks his head to the side, staring at you for a moment, then looks up when you point towards the ceiling. “Ah,” he chuckles, “yes. That is good reason to be happy.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” You hook your finger under the collar of his shirt and gently tug him towards you. “Come here, handsome.”

He lets out a soft, happy giggle and bends down to kiss you.

#sass writes #piotr rasputin x reader #colossus x reader #holiday fluff #i miss going outside #which never happens so like #fml #don't mind the sounds of despair coming from my general direction #just use the fluff to drown it out #just like how i am #also kitty is jewish and thus doesn't observe christmas #i will die on this fucking hill :)#x men fanfiction #deadpool fanfiction

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cardentist · 4 years

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I’ve talked about how the misconception of hoodie and masky as proxies clashes with the plot of marble hornets before and how the implications of them being interpreted as proxies impacts the themes of tim’s characterization and storyline. (link) that said, I’ve noticed that even people who Know they aren’t proxies still tend to interpret them as more violent or antagonistic than they really are, sometimes still interpreting them as working for or being controlled by the operator.

so ! I wrote up a manifesto rambling on about my thoughts on why hoodie and masky come off as more threatening than they actually are, on what the operator’s influence actually is, and on masky’s role is as an alter. I’m putting it under a readmore for length ! so warning for major spoilers under the cut.

as a note, this is all based on my own understanding of the series, I don’t want to have to write “in my opinion” after everything I say so I’m saying it here fjlsdk

but to start with, I wanna address the idea of hoodie and masky (and even alex) being puppeted by the operator.

troy has gone out of his way to state multiple times that there are no proxies in marble hornets specifically to counter the notion that the operator has direct control of the characters’ actions at any point. the operator can affect people’s moods, their perception of reality, but it can’t puppet people’s actions. They’re in control of themselves even if they aren’t thinking clearly or rationally.

compare jay and alex. they were both unmedicated throughout the series (for the most part), and there’s evidence to suggest that jay was affected by the operator all the way back during the marble hornets shoot (he mentions how cold he feels just like tim, and he doesn’t remember alex’s change in behavior in the present at all), but they both were in Very different places mentally. it isn’t fair to just say that alex was more Violent than jay, we didn’t see much of him pre-operator but we were meant to get the idea that he was just a normal guy, but he had a very different reaction to the operator’s influence.

likewise, brian and tim were both taking medication throughout the series and Very Obviously had different reactions to the operator’s influence (brian self isolating and giving into paranoia while tim tried Very hard to live a normal life and get better despite his lack of support).

if the operator could just control people’s actions then the differences in their personalities and environments wouldn’t have mattered. why bother creating an alter that’s less openly violent than alex was? why leave jay to be self destructive but ultimately harmless when he was vulnerable for so long? if the alters and changes in behavior were caused by a Direct influence by the operator, controlling what they Do rather than just how they feel, then they All should’ve been as murderous as alex was.

personally? I see masky as a protector that stemmed from tim’s childhood trauma. we don’t know exactly what happened for sure, like tim said we’ll never know if what he experienced was the operator or his own schizophrenia or both (or if the difference even matters), but we Do know that from his perspective he was locked in a room with a monster with nowhere to go and with no one to help him. the people who were Supposed to take care of him (his parents, his doctors) were the ones confining him there and he didn’t have anyone else in his life (brian was his first friend). that’s Plenty of reason for DID to occur naturally !

masky’s job as a protector would be to get tim (and the people important to him depending on the situation) away from danger by either fighting or running away, because tim didn’t Have the power to help himself when he needed it. moreover, that’d explain why masky tends to front in response to seizures and being Taken by the operator, it’d be to protect tim from whatever caused the pain (whether it can actually be protected against or not) And to deal with painful memories ! it’s a trauma response because masky exists in response To trauma and tim’s inability to cope with what happened to him on his own

so ! why does masky come off as so intimidating if he’s supposed to be a protector? because he was supposed to ! out of universe, the series was presented out of order with jay getting bits and pieces of what happened to slowly pull together a more complete narrative. hoodie and masky were written to Look like antagonists the first time through (in the same way that alex looked more sympathetic in the beginning), but slowly putting the pieces together makes their actual goals clearer as well as adds context to situations that made them look bad because of how they were presented in release order. this isn’t a failing of the storytelling by any means, we thought they were threatening because Jay thought they were threatening !

and well, in universe obviously part of it is that hoodie and masky are, you know, running around wearing masks and acting shady, especially when you have no idea who they are or what they want. But a lot of times their actions Seem threatening but can either be explained by them purposefully appearing threatening to try to scare jay away from danger/into helping someone Or can be explained by them being affected by the operator in the same way that jay and alex were (more on that later :3c)

this distinction is important because hoodie and masky’s whole goal is to combat alex and the operator ! the operator can make them more aggressive/act out in ways that they otherwise wouldn’t, but it isn’t making them do it’s bidding !

tbh the only thing holding me back from explaining every single instance where hoodie or masky come off as threatening is my own thinning self control, but the fact that I haven’t yet means that I have limited examples jlksfd. that said ! I can think of a couple!

the most obvious example of them being threatening on purpose was entry ####, when hoodie and masky stopped speaking in codes for the first time and made an overtly threatening video saying in no uncertain terms that they were coming to “get” jay just before the season 1 finale. They even posted it on His channel so he couldn’t ignore it. they Knew alex was going to go after jay, but they also knew that alex was watching him and watching them. if they warned him that alex was the one coming for him then alex wouldn’t make his move and would wait until jay was vulnerable again (plus the risk of him just not Believing them since at this point he had no reason to think that alex was truly dangerous). so they made Themselves the threat and scared jay out of his apartment before alex could burn him alive in it.

an example of them appearing threatening because of Circumstance and how the story was told is actually one series of events split up into several parts ! chronologically it starts with entry 52. alex invites jay and jessica into the woods, holds them at gunpoint, and tries to shoot them only to be tackled by masky. jessica and jay manage to run away and meet up at a hotel only to be tracked down by the operator. jay tackles it and he and jessica are knocked out and have their memories wiped.

then jay wakes up in entry 27 with no idea what’s happened, and posts about exactly that to his youtube channel. both alex and totheark have been paying attention to jay’s channel and they both find out that jay and jessica are vulnerable at the same time. they don’t know exactly where jay and jessica are right off the bat, but jay made it clear that he wasn’t going anywhere. so it’s a race against the clock to see who can get to them first while not drawing any unwanted attention.

finally it’s jessica’s disappearance, split between entry 33 and 76! jay has Just posted about how he’s gonna leave with jessica to try to figure things out, and hoodie and masky both know that if alex had already found the hotel then that would’ve push him into action. So that’s what leads to 76 with hoodie and masky grabbing jessica to try to get her out of danger. masky carries her down the stairs and then sets her down outside before heading back into the hotel.

Cutting to entry 33, that’s when he confronts jay in his hotel room. At the time it Looked like he was attacking jay because we didn’t have the context, but this was Immediately following him trying to save jessica and him Successfully saving them from alex shooting them. Moreover, he didn’t actually try to hit or overpower jay (and considering he just finished carrying a grown unconscious woman over his shoulders down the stairs he definitely could’ve).

What’s more likely is that hoodie was going to carry jessica to safety while masky carried jay, and he only Didn’t because jay was conscious to fight him off. (why jessica was unconscious probably has to do with why jay and jessica lost their memories in the first place and why jessica didn’t seem to think anything was off at the end of the series, that’s to say that slenderman wanted alex to get to them and was likely thrown by hoodie and masky’s presence). masky was hauling ass because he was trying to get to jay before alex did and he was taken off guard by the fact that jay wasn’t out like jessica was !

so then back to 76! jessica wakes up and hoodie tries to help her through the woods only to get shot at by alex, alex tricks her into trusting him and tries to convince her that they’re both hoodie’s victims. when alex tries to take his second chance to kill her she grabs his gun and hoodie comes to beat his ass ! hoodie stayed close when he ran off so he could catch alex off guard ! Unfortunately the operator gets to her while they’re fighting each other off. it’s unclear exactly what happens but jessica gets taken and we see alex put his gun away. personally I think jessica was knocked out rather than shot and he was just retrieving it from her before she got taken (seeing as she’s still alive by the end of the series) though what happened to hoodie isn’t exactly clear beyond the fact that he lived.

so ! to put all of that shorter fjdksl hoodie and masky’s goal here was to protect jay and jessica from alex. masky came to stop alex from shooting them the first time and they both tracked jessica and jay down after they lost their memories because they knew alex would take the opportunity to try to kill them again. masky not being able to grab jay (or more accurately, getting throttled by jay jldsf) meant that he wasn’t there to help hoodie defend jessica against alex leading to her getting taken anyways. but it scared jay into escaping the hotel without having to encounter alex himself. That’s why jay said he understood. it isn’t just that tim had no control over his alter’s actions, it was that masky and hoodie Looked threatening but were actually trying to help. It’s just that tim had no way to know that when he found the tape originally.

and finally ! what I think is an example of masky coming off as threatening because of the operator’s influence, but specifically on Mood rather than action! This being the events of entry 61 and 62!

Hoodie wants to force jay and tim to team up, and he does so by acting as the villain to get jay to move again (while he had masky pose in front of the camera before it’s more likely that he planned and edited entry ####). He takes tim’s pills, tim goes into a seizure, the video cuts out, and hoodie tells jay to go find him. this is followed by masky attacking jay in the woods and them both waking up in the abandoned house in rosswood.

now before I say anything else, let's contrast this with jay in entry 82 and 77. jay tries to stake out the rosswood tunnel (the last place jessica was seen in the tape before she disappeared), and after not finding anything he calls tim to apologize, tell him that he understood, and to say he wanted to work with him again. He’s scared and he says that he thinks he’s seeing things, he Specifically sees the same abandoned building that they woke up in during 62 Moving Closer to him. Jay then has a seizure, the video cuts out, and tim never gets the phone call. the next time we see jay chronologically is 77, where he comes to tim with zip ties and his (piddly) pocket knife to try to “interrogate” him about jessica.

we don’t see exactly what happened to him after the video cuts out, but we know whatever it was affected his memory, made him far more aggressive and paranoid, and played into his anxiety and fears notching them up to 11 (like him shouting that it “wouldn’t have been (his) fault” when tim says that jessica is gone playing into the fact that jay blames himself for losing jessica when she was one room over).

it’s the exact same situation with masky. 61 and 62 follows tim and jay’s blowout in the parking lot and jay sharing tim’s medical records online. at this point tim had a lot of anxiety and frustration surrounding jay. so when masky woke up after tim’s seizure, shaken up by the operator, he saw jay as a threat to tim’s safety in the same way that jay saw Tim as a threat keeping him from finding jessica. the operator is Most Likely responsible for teleporting them both to the abandoned house and teleporting masky specifically to the woods !

the operator causing aggression is pretty much a constant ! though how much a specific person reacts to it depends on the situation, the amount of exposure they’ve had and how recent it was, and how much Help the person has access to (like medication, support, and solidarity). alex became an Extremely aggressive person, and it wasn’t just because of the stress of the situation. he self isolated and didn’t have access to medication. he fell into paranoia and catastrophizing, deciding that everyone around him either deserved to be mercy killed to save them from the operator or saw them as a threat spreading the sickness to other people.

That’s why he went easier on jay at first. He was trying to kill him from the beginning, but he tolerated more from him because he saw jay as someone that needed to be saved from his fate. It isn’t until his mental health declined even further and jay continued to get in his way that his attitude changed, giving us who he was at the very end.

we also know that audio/visual glitches are signs of the operator, and you’ll notice the audio glitching when people yell Throughout the series. the three standouts for me being alex yelling “I’ll kill you” after hoodie and masky try to smash his head in with a rock, tim yelling “but what if I’m right” while he’s spiraling thinking about how he could’ve been the cause of all of this while telling jay about his backstory, and jay yelling “I need it” after tim refuses to leave the camera for him when jay is zip tied on the floor.

the operator causes paranoia and aggression as a baseline, it just affects everyone to different degrees at different times depending on their access to help and how direct the operator is being with its influence, hoodie and masky are no different !

that doesn’t make their actions Okay, alex isn’t off the hook for Murder, but it does make them all Victims and it does mean that they deserved help (think back to tim offering to help alex during their final confrontation, even after everything).

All of that to say ! while hoodie and masky come off as threatening, their overall goals are to be helpful, they just tend to act extremely because of the situation they’re in on top of dealing with the same operator-influenced aggression and paranoia that everyone else is trying to manage. This is only emphasized by the method of storytelling deliberately obscuring the order of events to make them appear more threatening than they really are on top of their own attempts to scare jay out of harm's way.

I’ve gone on just, frankly way too long. so ! if you’re interested in more meta about how mental illness ties into the core Themes of marble hornets as well as misconceptions in the fandom (and specifically some dunking on night mind’s masky theory jlkfsd) I have a google doc where I’ve been just, chewing on it here (link)

it’s written like it’s laying out points for a response video that I’m frankly never gonna make, but I’ve been putting off making a post about it instead for This Exact Reason (this post is just over 5 pages in google docs jlkfds). and if you’d like to do more research on DID and OSDD there’s an Excellent playlist with resources ! the uploader has OSDD and they have other playlists as well that are worth checking out too ^^ (link)

#marble hornets #slenderverse #creepypasta #masky marble hornets #tim wright #hoody marble hornets #brian thomas #alex kralie #jay merrick #meta #I don't know what the tags for this should be so I'm just throwing everything at it jklsfd #reposting this so more people can actually see it #it's way too long to keep it to replies jlkfsda

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hidden-otaku-stuff · 4 years

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A Foodie’s Second Chance

Word count: 1.1k Pairing: Osamu Miya x gn!neutral Genre: Fluff (with a smidge of angst)

AN: This is my submission for the HaikyuuCreations September prompt!

Prompt 1: A and B are each others’ first loves, but A and B have been broken up for a few years. Coincidentally, they reunite one fateful day, in which A confesses that they haven’t gotten over B at their reunion. // “Did you really think I could get over you, just like that?”

Prompt 2: “Can I have a taste of yours?” “Get your own!

Themes: Sapporo Autumn Festival & National First Love Day!

You walked down the aisles, admiring all the displays as your mouth began to water. The Sapporo Autumn Fest was truly a place for foodies to die at. “Thanks for dragging me out,” you grin, looking at your coworker.

Akaashi glanced down at you, smiling. “You looked really excited when I talked to you about it, how could I not?” He pats your head, causing you to duck down and scowl at him.

“Oi, just cause you’re taller than me doesn’t mean you can do that!”

“Is that you, ‘Kaashi?” You froze at the familiar voice. Turning, (e/c) orbs meet silver. “(N-Name)?” He stuttered, freezing in place.

“Myaa-sam, you know (L.Name)?” Akaashi looked between you both, his eyes widening in surprise.

“He was that ex-boyfriend I told you about,” you muttered under your breath. “I’m gonna go check out that booth over there!” You point in a random direction before sprinting off and mixing in the crowd. In hindsight, it makes sense that he was here. He was a foodie. Heck, you guys used to talk about this festival all the time back in high school.

“You guys dated?” Akaashi inquired, looking at Osamu.

Osamu sighed, pinching his nose before reluctantly nodding. “Yeah. Before they left to America to study for university.”

Akaashi opened his mouth to respond, only to get interrupted by a loud voice. “Oi, ‘Samu!” They both turned to see Atsumu. “Oh, ‘Kaashi! Bokkun was just lookin’ for ya.”

“AKAASHI!” Bokuto cheered, throwing himself at the editor.

Akaashi stumbled, righting himself up as Bokuto latched onto him. “Hello, Bokuto-san.” Akaashi patted Bokuto on the back.

“Let’s go try some food!” Bokuto grinned, dragging Akaashi away.

“They’re here.” Osamu muttered, elbowing Atsumu.

“Who?” Atsumu looked at his twin.

“(Name).”

“(Name)’s here?!” Atsumu exclaimed, looking around. “What are you doin’ standin’ round here for?! Go get your boo thing back!” With one shove, Atsumu sent Osamu in the direction that you were in. He let out a curse, running his hand through his hair before looking around for any sign of you.

“(Name)!” Osamu called, relieved as he spotted you in the crowd.

You cursed under your breath before reluctantly turning to face him. “Yes, Miya-san?”

He winced, “Miya-san?”

“That’s your name, isn’t it?” You shrug.

“Yeah, but I was always ‘Samu to you.”

“Well, things change after a few years I guess.” You crossed your arms. “Did you need something?”

“Oh! Akaashi ended up going with my brother and his team-mates.” You raise an eyebrow so he hastily adds, “‘Tsumu’s on the same team as Bokuto is.”

“Ah.” You chewed on your lip. You’d only come to the festival because Akaashi had invited you to come with him. He hadn’t mentioned meeting up with his friends. “Alright then.” You shrug. When you were in the States, you were used to being a foodie by yourself.

“I was thinking...do you think I could go with you instead?”

“What?”

Osamu shrugged, swallowing. “I mean, we always talked about goin’ together. Might as well since we’re both here, right?”

You fixed him with a hard stare, thoroughly considering it. If you were being honest, the sight of Osamu here had driven your instincts into overdrive. Your heart hadn’t stopped its fast-pace sprint as it rammed itself against your rib-cage. “...Fine. But only because we’ll be able to try more things.” Spinning on your heel, you stalked down the aisle. He sprinted after you, shoving his hands into his pocket as he walked beside you.

“Y’know that means you’ll have to share with me right?” He asked, amusement flickering in his features.

“Yes, and?”

“That’d be like an indirect kiss. Or was that what you wanted?”

“Shut up, Miya.”

“You know you love me,” he teased. He remembered this behaviour back in high-school. You were always more of a tsundere than you’d admit to.

“No I don’t,” you scoff. “How can I love someone who ghosted me after I moved away for college?” You lean down, looking at a menu and placing an order. Osamu was quick to place one right after you, paying for both meals.

“I’m sorry.”

“What?” Glancing up, you see the tremour in Osamu’s lips as he took his change back from the vendor.

He cleared his throat. “I said I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

Osamu kicked the ground awkwardly. The vendor called for your attention, handing you the two trays of food. Osamu reached out, taking one of the trays for you. “For not trying harder,” he muttered, his cheeks darkening. “To be honest, I never forgot about you.”

Icy claws squeezed your heart as you avoided looking at Osamu. “Me too. How could I? I loved you.”

“‘Loved’?”

You let out a hoarse chuckle, shaking your head. “I mean, it’s been years ‘Samu. Years. I can’t really say ‘I love you’ now, could I?”

“You said it the day you left.” Osamu grabbed your wrist, pulling you back towards him. His silver eyes bore into yours, searching them for something, anything, that could tell him how you were feeling in the moment. “Did you really think I could get over you, just like that? Knowing that the last words you said to me was ‘I love you’, and I wasn’t brave enough to say it back? Or to chase you after you’d left? You were my first love. I haven’t loved anyone else since. ”

Tears welled up in your eyes. “What are you tryin’ to say, ‘Samu? That this whole time, you’ve been in love with me?”

“Yes. ”

You flinched, “what the fuck?” The wall broke, tears shining in the golden light as they escaped your eyes. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Hopefully gettin’ the love of my life back?” As soon as he heard you sniffle, he fished out some napkins from his pocket. “C’mon, let’s go sit down, yeah?”

“You’re unbelievable, ‘Samu.” Rolling your eyes, you collapsed at the empty table, face buried in your hands.

“But do I have a chance? Or have you moved on already?” His eyes scanned the crowd, spotting Akaashi and Bokuto ordering food at another vendor close by.

Shaking your head, you let out a sigh. “I haven’t moved on yet.”

“Then I have a chance.”

You looked up, glaring at him. “You’re a dumbass, you know that?”

Osamu just chuckled before he started eyeing your food. “Can I get a taste of yours?”

“Get your own!” You scowl, leaning over and covering your tray. He chuckled, leaning back in his seat. Yep, still the same old (Name) he used to know. Hope blossomed in his chest. Maybe, just maybe, things could work out this time.

*****

general taglist: @scrappydaisies @newfriendjen @kyomihann

Please contact me if you would like to be a part of my general taglist! 💞 Check out this link for information about my taglists.

#haikyuucreations 0920 #haikyuucreations #osamu miya x reader #osamu miya fluff #osamu miya x gn reader #haikyuu imagines

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paradoxicalpatton · 5 years

Text

Wearing Our Hearts On Our Sleeves

hi everyone! so this is my new (not so little) little project, and im really excited about it!! this chapter is just the prologue so if this does well im going to write and post the actual story. so please if you enjoy this little sneak peek into my new au, like and reblog it!!! also, @tinysidestrashcaptain wanted to be tagged, so here!

Title: Wearing Our Hearts On Our Sleeves Chapter: Prologue Word Count: 2018 Ships: Logicality, Prinxiety, Dukeceit Summary: Logan Bright, a Police Officer, is trying to find his father's killer, and solve the case that led to his death once and for all. Throughout his investigations, Logan meets an eclectic bunch of people. A paramedic who owns 2 cats yet is deathly allergic, a 911 operator with severe social anxiety, twins who happen to be a firefighter and a forensic scientist, a cps worker who is a compulsive liar, and a 7-year-old boy who's parents were murdered. Warnings: References to past child abuse, mentions of murder, and includes references to violence and talks about injuries so please be careful if you choose to go ahead and read! this fic is also very, very, sympathetic deceit heavy, so if you dont like that, dont read. AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23046337/chapters/55117603

[April 24th 2020, 2:17 am]

“Hello, 911, what’s your emergency?”

“Some bad man hurt my mom and dad, I don’t think they’re okay. Can you please come?”

“Okay, how old are you?”

“Please come fast, there’s lots of blood.”

“I’ve got officers coming as fast as they can, but I need you to stay calm for me, alright?”

“Okay.”

“What’s your name?”

“Thomas.”

“Hi Thomas, I’m Virgil. How old are you?”

“I’m 7 years old.”

“Okay Thomas, you said there was a bad man, is he still there or did he leave? Did you see him?”

“He left. I only saw his clothes.”

“Alright, where are you right now?”

“In my mom and dad’s room.”

“And do you have any brothers or sisters?”

“No, it’s just me.”

“Can you tell me what happened, Thomas?”

“I was sleeping with my mom and dad and I had to go to the bathroom, and then I heard my mom scream and two loud bangs.”

“Those loud bangs, did they sound like gunshots?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, did the bad man leave quickly?”

“No, he stayed for a little.”

“So you heard the loud bangs and waited a little until the man left?”

“Yes, he did something else to my mom and dad.”

“What did he do Thomas, do you know?”

“He closed their mouths with string.”

“...God, okay the officers should be there any minute now.”

“I can see police cars.”

“Perfect, you did such a good job calling. Can you give the phone to a police officer for me please?”

“Okay.”

“Thank you, Thomas.”

“Detective Phillips speaking.”

“Hi detective, I just wanted to make sure help arrived before I ended the call.”

“No problem, we’ll handle this now.”

“Of course.”

[The Sanders Residence, April 24th, 2:21 am]

Detective Clark Phillips hung up the phone call and made his way over to the front stairs were Thomas had sat down. Sitting next to him, Clark shrugged off his coat and placed it around Thomas’ shoulders, making sure to give them a firm squeeze before he pulled away. Clark lent down slightly so that he could speak to Thomas more quietly and directly.

“So Thomas, was it? Did you see the man that killed your parents?” Thomas dried his face with his pyjama sleeve and looked at the detective sitting next to him, trying to find the courage to speak, his voice uneven and scared.

“I saw what he was wearing, but I didn’t see his face.” Clark watched as Thomas wrapped his arms around himself tightly, bowing his head and attempting to shrug the coat off. The detective chuckled at the sight before him.

“Well, Thomas that won’t help us at all.”

“But-” Clark put his right hand on the back of Thomas’ neck and squeezed slightly, a warning for the boy to stop talking.

“Unless you saw his face we’ll never find him. So if someone asks you if you saw something you tell them you saw nothing, alright?”

“But I did-” The hand tightened around Thomas’ neck and new tears began to form in the corner of his eyes.

“What did you see Thomas?”

“Nothing.”

[The Myers Residence, April 24th, 2:18 am]

Demitri Myers was rudely woken by the sound of his annoying default ringtone in the early hours of the morning. Without moving as much as he could, Demitri reached behind him and grabbed his phone from his bedside table, hitting the answer button and putting the call on speaker.

“Myers.”

“Dee, oh good you’re awake.”

“Why of course, it’s not as if I were sleeping or something.”

“Oh poor Demitri was woken from his beauty sleep-”

“Look, Allison, unless someone’s died I’m hanging up.”

“It was two people actually, their young son found them, I need you to take this one.”

“Fuck, sorry. Yeah alright, text me the address, I’ll get there as quick as I can.”

“Thanks, Dee.”

Hanging up the phone, Demitri threw the bed covers off him and made his way into his ensuite, turning the tap on and gently splashing cool water over his face. He quickly slipped on his sneakers and coat, then grabbed his ID badge and car keys, and left. Demitri turned the car on and opened up his phone, tapping on the address Allison had sent him and started his GPS before pulling out of the underground car park and driving toward the crime scene.

[The Sanders Residence, April 24th, 2:27 am]

Demitri walked up to the yellow police tape and showed the nearest officer his ID badge before slipping under the tape and walking over to the group of detectives standing by the paramedics. He was quickly given a rundown of what had happened and was directed by another officer over to the boy who was alone on the stairs. This was always the worst part of these kinds of jobs, the child had just lost his parents and now some stranger wants him to go with them. But Demitri had never struggled as much as he did that night. As he got closer he realised that the kid hadn’t been seen by the paramedics on sight, he could tell by the dried blood on his hands and the bottom of his pyjama pants.

Kneeling down in front of the child as slowly as he could, he was able to get a closer look. His eyes were red and swollen, his cheeks were puffy, hair a mess, and dried snot under his nose. Demitri tried to keep the left side of him facing away from the kid as he introduced himself.

“Hi there, my name’s Demitri, but you can call me Dee.” The boy slowly looked up at him, nodded his head and looked back down at the ground.

“My name’s Thomas.” Demitri smiled sadly and moved to sit next to Thomas on the stairs, noticing him flinch away as he got closer, so he put some space between them and let his hands fall into his lap.

“It’s nice to meet you, Thomas. I’m here to look after you, do you have any other family we can call?” Thomas shook his head, wrapping his arms around himself once more.

“Alright then, why don’t we go inside and pack a bag with some of your things. Do you think you can do that?” Thomas nodded and Demitri let out a quiet sigh, he knew this was going to be difficult, he just wished that Thomas didn’t have to go through this. Demitri stood up and walked over to Detective Phillips who seemed to be leading the case and asked him if he and Thomas could pack a larger bag and take a few small comfort items. The detective agreed and he went back over to Thomas asking him where his room was.

When they reached Thomas’ room, Demitri looked through the closet to find something to pack Thomas’ things in, eventually deciding on his small Spider-Man themed suitcase. Together they packed it full of clothes and toys, as well as Thomas’ toothbrush and hairbrush. Before leaving the room Demitri grabbed one of Thomas’ pillows and asked the boy to grab his shoes.

[The Myers Residence, April 24th, 2:45 am]

When Demitri and Thomas had finally made it back to his apartment, he gave Thomas a quick tour, showing him where he’d be sleeping, where Demitri slept, where the bathroom was, and how to use the television. But before anything else, Demitri grabbed a new towel for Thomas and a new change of clothes, turning on the shower and letting the child clean himself of his parent’s blood. While he showered, Demitri put clean sheets on the guest bed and placed Thomas’ pillow near the headboard.

After Thomas had gotten changed he brushed his teeth and lied down in the bed that’d been made for him, quietly asking Demitri to leave the door slightly ajar. Once he was sure Thomas was safe and comfortable, Demitri made his way to his own room and climbed back into bed after kicking off his shoes. He knew he should probably figure out what he needed to do tomorrow regarding Thomas, but he could practically feel sleep calling him. He had almost drifted off when he heard a soft knock on his bedroom door and a creak letting him know it’d been opened.

“Mister Dee? Are you awake?” Demitri sat up and patted the empty side of his bed, inviting Thomas to take a seat so they could take.

“Yeah buddy, I’m awake. You doing alright?” With a little help, Thomas climbed up on the bed, sitting cross-legged and playing with the edge of the blanket.

“I’m okay, I can’t sleep.” Demitri nodded and slid back down the mattress until he was lying once more, pulling some of the blankets from underneath Thomas and lifting it up, inviting him to lie down with him.

“That’s fine, you can stay here with me.” Thomas smiled, albeit sadly, and made himself comfortable.

“Mister Dee-” “Just Dee, Thomas.” “-Dee… what happened to your face?”

Demitri stiffened. Usually, when he looked after children they’d be too scared to ask about his face, so when Thomas questioned him about it he was immediately ready to respond with a lie, to keep him happy. But his only rule when it came to lying was that he would never do it to a child. So he told Thomas the truth.

“It melted in a fire when I was 9.” Thomas’ wide, chocolate brown eyes blinked a few times, the boy refusing to break the silence so that Demitri would go on. And with a reluctant sigh, he did.

“My parents had a bad fight one day and my Dad hit me so hard I fell asleep. While I was asleep he accidentally started a fire. I was left inside.”

“Did they forget you?” Demitri should really lie here, to tell Thomas ‘No, they didn’t, my Dad saved me’ and that everything was okay. But looking across at him, Demitri just couldn’t bring himself to do it.

“No, they didn’t forget. My Mom and Dad didn’t want to save me.” Before he knew it small, warm arms were wrapped around his stomach, Thomas’ face pressed tightly against his chest. For the first time ever since the incident, Demitri let a few silent tears slip past his eyes and down his cheeks. Because Thomas, a boy who had just lost his parents, who he had just met, was here comforting him for something that had happened 19 years ago.

Demitri smiled as Thomas pulled away, looking up at the scar tissue that travelled down his face, neck, and arm, slowly raising a hand and looking back to Demitri.

“Can I touch it? Does it hurt?” Demitri chuckled softly and carefully grabbed Thomas’ hand, placing it on his bumpy cheek and running it past his jaw and down to the part of his shoulder exposed by his t-shirt.

“No, it doesn’t hurt.”

“It feels so weird, cool!” This time they were both laughing, real happy smiles on each of their faces.

“Hey Dee, guess what.” Thomas curled into Demitri’s side as he placed an arm around him, holding the boy close and gently rubbing circles on his shoulder.

“What Thomas?”

“It’s my birthday today.”

The rubbing stopped. Surely he had heard that wrong. Surely, there was no way that sweet, sweet Thomas’ birthday was today. Everyone’s always scared that something will go wrong on their birthday, maybe a friend didn’t turn up, or the family dog took a bite from the cake before the candles were blown. But for a child to listen to their parents be murdered, find the bodies, and make the 911 call is quite possibly the worst thing that could ever happen. What was Demitri supposed to say to that? What? ‘Happy birthday Thomas, I hope it’s a great day! Your parents are dead but that’s okay!’ Instead Demitri chose the safest option, resuming rubbing circles on Thomas’ shoulder and pulling the blanket up.

“Get some rest Thomas, tomorrow’s going to be a busy day.”

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aspoonofsugar · 5 years

Note

Hey! In your opinion, how do you think Dazai ended up in the mafia, and do you think he's hiding something under his bandages? physical injuries or emotional scars- concidering his covered eye revealed nothing when Oda ripped off the bandages. To me, it seemed like symbolism, giving him a clearer view of the world and showing him a different path. Is the rest of it the same way pherhaps, some part of him still holding on to the past? Where is his moral compass really pointing?

do you think dazai will die at the end of the series?

Hello anons!

These two asks can be answered together!

We actually know how Dazai ended up in the mafia since it is explained in Fifteen.

Dazai was a suicidal patient Mori saved and involved in his plan to take over the mafia. Mori killed the old boss in front of Dazai and had Dazai be his witness of the old boss’s last will. Basically, Dazai and Mori tricked the mafia into thinking that the boss had chosen Mori as his successor. It is implied that Mori had chosen Dazai in order to kill him later on framing his death as a suicide. However, he changed his mind because of Dazai’s intelligence and of the fact that killing Dazai would have only strenghtened the suspicions about Mori’s succession of the old boss. Because of this, Mori chose to groom Dazai into becoming his own successor instead. In order to do so Mori had firstly to do something about Dazai’s suicide tendencies. This is why he sent him on a mission imagining that the strong emotions born by Dazai risking his life would have motivated him to join the organization. And this is what happens.

As far as Dazai’s bandages are concerned, I have talked a little bit about them here:

Chuuya wears gloves and Dazai wears bandages. Chuuya’s gloves represent Chuuya’s attempt to hide his inhuman parts. All in all they are nothing but something superficial which are meant to hide and suppress his destructive potential. Dazai’s bandages are representative of the barriers Dazai puts between himself and others because of his fear of being hurt. Both pieces of cloths show that Dazai and Chuuya hide parts of themselves from others.

As you said, the bandages probably represents emotional scars Dazai has and his unwillingness to make himself vulnerable. Dazai is so scared of being hurt that he keeps his distance from others. In a sense Dazai is bandaging his head before he is even hurt.

As far as this scene is concerned:

I agree with you and I will also link this meta BSD Chat Anon wrote to @hamliet because I think you will find it interesting.

As far as Dazai’s moral compass is concerned, I think Odasaku has already told us:

If both sides are the same, become a good man (…). Neither good nor bad means much to you, I know…but that’d make you at least a little bit better.

Dazai is ultimately not interested in morality or ideals and he is mostly motivated by his connections. This isn’t something bad per se, though. As a matter of fact Dazai being disinterested in morals is why he can say something like this without any doubt:

He perfectly understands that people are complex and the truth is that he loves people because of this complexity:

Odasaku manages to develop a genuine connection with Dazai and Dazai manages to change his life because of Odasaku’s last words. This is really not different from Odasaku changing his own life because of his dream of becoming a writer. Both men found a reason to transform and did so. The reason they found simply tells us something about who they are.

In Dazai’s case it is obvious that what he wants is connection. In Dark Era he claims that he treasures his friendship with Ango and Oda and is heartbroken when it turns out Ango is a spy. The importance of connections in Dazai’s arc becomes clear also in his battle against Fyodor. All in all, Fyodor had successfully outwitted Dazai into thinking he was underground. However, in the end Dazai manages to find him, but he doesn’t do so because of his intelligence, but simply because he forms an alliance with Fitzgerald. Even in the current arc Dazai is not able to win against Fyodor when it comes to a battle of wits. However, Dazai has something Fyodor lacks:

Dazai has connections and can trust others to defeat Fyodor.

Even when it comes to Dazai killing himself he wants someone he can die with because even in death he wants a genuine connection. And in this way we arrive to the second ask.

In short, it is too soon to say because the truth is that in the series Dazai has still to have a proper character arc. Dazai has appeared a lot, but he has yet to experience a proper struggle. As a matter of fact Dazai is usually the character seeing through everything and solving (or creating) conflicts rather than the one directly experiencing them and so it is obvious that he can’t be changed by them. Of course this doesn’t mean that he has not received any focus. Throughout the series his character has been discussed a lot and his relationships with others have been given space, but everything seems to me more a set up rather than a proper arc. Because of this, it is basically impossible to say how Dazai’s arc will end.

That said, as for now, I think Dazai will not die. As a matter of fact Dazai has wished to die since he was a teenager and it would not make much sense to give him what he wants as a conclusion of his arc. It is true that among the existentialist themes the series explores there is this:

However, Dazai is a character who has known about the link between life and death even before Odasaku died:

“After all to die isn’t the opposite of living. It’s merely a component of the process of life.”

As a matter of fact, I would say that Dazai’s constant attemps to die have been nothing but misplaced attempts to live and to find meaning in life. The truth is that Dazai is scared of being hurt and in pain:

This is why he looks for painless ways to die, but he always fails because in the end there is no painless death which is also meaningful. In order to live Dazai must accept pain and loss. After all, it is not by chance that he manages to change his life after he experiences grief. He could have reacted to Odasaku’s death very poorly, but instead he has managed to grow thanks to it even if it was a horrible experience. All in all, Dazai keeps praising the stray dogs who struggle because deep down he admires them for their resiliance. The stray dogs are the ones properly facing the world, while he sees people like him and Fyodor as mere observers. However, Dazai is a stray dog too and he must accept both the bad parts and the good parts of it.

In conclusion, I think that Dazai is not a character who should find the meaning of his life in death, but who should simply accept that life can also be painful and that he should embrace it in all its different nuances. I don’t know how this will be conveyed in the story. Personally, I like the idea of Dazai trying to use the book to save Odasaku (hence he may try to turn the universe into the one of Beast), but in the end he will be stopped/not do it and will accept he has to live without Oda and with the other people he has met thanks to him. I think it would be a great way to solve Dazai’s arc and his contradictions. He could show his loved ones how selfish he can be, but still be accepted and be saved in the end. What is more, it would be great if the others had to become able to see through Dazai’s plan since they keep relying on him to predict how things will turn out in their fights. That said, this is just a headcanon and I have literally zero arguments to prove it.

Thank you for the asks!

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd meta #osamu dazai #dazai osamu #dazai bsd #asksfullofsugar #anonymous

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sukunas-play-thing · 5 years

Note

Could I get headcanons for shihai kuroiro x f reader pls? Where she's utterly loyal and in love with him but she discovers that he has feelings for kinoko? And she doesn't wanna get in between that crush he's got?. Love u work pls keep it up!

Ahhhh gfgfjf I freaking love this chaotic mess of a man. Since you didn't specify the ending I went with one hope it's acceptable ><

Happy belated birthday my sweet Prince of Darkness! Also headcanons couldn't do this justice so I went with a scenario I really hope that's okay thank you anon bean I love you.

Word count: 8015

Warnings: slight angst

*Shihai Kuroiro xf! Reader*

The feeling is indescribable at best. Being in love.

How his quirk allows him to hide in the shadows, you'd never know he was there until he wanted you to know he was there. (Name) smiled as she watched him chat with kamikiri and Shishida. He's so mysterious, and so careful with how he speaks. Hands moving languidly as he's motioning his arms as if painting a picture of what's he's talking about. "(Name), earth to (name)." She Shook her head pulling herself from her deep thoughts seeing Kendo and Pony standing by her desk. "Oh. Hey." She said meekly while waving her hand to her peers. "Always in your own little world you ready to head to lunch?." Kendo asked while tilting her head.

Pony shaking in excitement. Taking one last glance at Shihai, she grabbed what she needed for lunch and headed out to the cafeteria with her friends.

****

"So you're telling me Taemin from SHINee is now with super M? No way." Kinoko's mouth hung open in utter surprise as her and Pony exchanged topics of K-Pop idols. (Name) honestly couldn't focus. Shihai's birthday is fast approaching and still hasn't gotten together what to give him. Part of her thought something small and subtle would be suffice, but she also wanted to finally work up the courage to confess. She knows he's into dark concepts, and has a knack for penchant dramatic speaches. She smiled remembering something that'd happened between her a kuroiro at her work.

*he was visiting her at her job to give her a CD of his favorite band that came out with a new album. She had to work late that night and do last minute shopping before heading home. When a child behind them was throwing a fit because her parents wouldn't give her a candy bar. As (Name) was ringing up her stuff Kuroiro had grabbed a candy bar from the stores shelves, rung it up on a separate register and as (Name) turned to him to ask if he was ready to go he looked the child dead in the eyes, "My darkened soul begs for substance, and this candy bar sure looks delicious." And ate the whole thing right in front of her. "Oh my god Kuro-kun you're terrible." (Name) giggled as she placed a hand on his chest playfully. She could feel his heartbeat on her finger tips like an array of thunder coursing through her veins, seeing his surprised look as he glanced at her hand then at her, she quickly moved her hand away blushing. What she didn't see was the small tint of pink dusting his cheeks as well.*

***

Then a realization hit her. She knew what to do for his birthday. "Hey guys something just came up I'll see you later. " grabbing her things (Name) took off without waiting for 'goodbyes" from her friends.

The theme is a black satin box with Silver trimming and a gold quarter size pentagram on the kid. The box was a big enough size to fit all his favorite things inside. A close friend of hers was good at carving things so she got with Kamikiri and Kodai to help her make the box for Shihai. Once the box was set she carefully placed all things he loves most, and we couldn't forget his favorite food black ink pasta. After the assorted goodies were placed in the box she wrote down a note containing dark themed clues to help piece the puzzle together in confessing her feelings for him.

Once the letter and clues were finished she carefully wrapped the box with skull and crossbones and waited until the next day.

"Heyo!." (Name) announced her arrival through the door of her classroom most of the classmates were already there saying hellos back to her. She skimmed the room for familiar silver hair but didn't find the male in question. "Where's Shihai?." She asked tetsutetsu. He looked around quickly before looking back at (Name). "He's not here did you check the lockers?." She Shook her head, her smile wavering but determination to find Shihai fueled her even more. With his present in tow she walked around the halls but couldn't find him. She checked the lockers like Tetsutetsu suggested, still no Shihai.

*"where could he be... "* more of a question to herself than anything. She ran straight into someone dropping the present in the process. "Shit (name) I'm so sorry." Kamikiri said while picking up said item. "Was the box to you're liking?." He asked handing it back to her. "Yes! It's so beautiful thank you so much for the help."

"Y'know. You never told me who or what it was for." (Name) glanced at the green haired man. "Oh.. It's for well." She mumbled while running her fingers through her hair. "It's for shihai. Todays his birthday and I wanted the present to be special." Smiling to herself. He nodded understanding. "Is that who you're looking for? I just saw him by the tree near the dorms. With Kinoko." Her heart thumped in her chest, an uneasy feeling soon settling in her very core. "Oh. Thank you! I'll bring this to him now." Right as she went to dash off Kamikiri called out. "Hurry up whatever the reason he said it' was important for him and kinoko to meet up." But when he looked up the female had already gone.

Upon arriving at her destination she seen Kinoko talking with Shihai by the tree. Her steps falter and slowed, maybe now was a bad time? Looking at the wrapped present in her arms she decided against it. Newfound confidence settling back in. But she couldn't help the nagging feeling in the back of her head that kept screaming. *"turn back while you still can."*

Nevertheless she waited by a tree just a foot or two away for her opportunity to pop in and give him the present. While she was debating on how to go about it she overheard they're conversation.

"Komori-chan. I wanted to tell you... " Shihai's voice. He sounded so nervous, more nervous than she's ever known he could be. Yeah he is bad at talking to girls, but she never noticed him have a problem talking with her let alone they're other female classmates.

"I really can't help but think about you. A-and want to know if you would go on a date with me."

There it was. The nagging gut wrenching feeling she's felt since finding out he was down here. Her heart had shattered, and felt a lump in her throat upon hearing his confession. Looking at the box with much less determination. She slowly backed away from their conversation and left the scene like a dog with it's tail between it's legs.

****

Kamikiri and Kendo were walking back to class when they'd seen a wrapped present and a disheveled (Name) sitting on a bench. "(Name)? Is everything alright?." She asked placing a hand in the girls shoulder. Eyes peered through (hair color) locks, giving a bright smile (Name) jeered. "Oh me? Yes I'm quite alright. Why do you ask?" Kendo frowned. Fake so fake of a reaction she knew something was wrong. Kamikiri shifted uncomfortably on his heels. "(Name). You weren't able to give Shihai his present?." "Oh this? Haha well no he seemed too busy with Kinoko, so I thought I'd hold onto this for awhile." Her voice wavered. Kendo looked to Kamikiri then back to (Name) before two and two put together. "(Name), whats the present. If you don't mind me asking." She sat next to her. Finally she begun letting her walls fall. "Shihai.. He asked Kinoko out on a date. This present here? I was gonna give this to him not only for his birthday. But it contained a letter and clues, I was planning on confessing to him..." She took a breath. "But. It seemed he had someone else in mind instead."

((Lol this was super long. I'd put a 'read more' link but alas I did this all on mobile hopefully this was okay. Thinking about giving this a part 2? Not sure if this one was acceptable or nah thank you anon for this amazing ask I had a lot of fun writing this piece. Also the Part with the kid and candy bar? I seen someone make an incorrect quotes post of Shihai doing this it made me giggle bc he's totally the type to do this so I thought I'd implement that into the scenario hopefully it's okay.))

🐲Queen Targe 🐲

#anime #my hero academia #bnha #bnha shihai #shihai kuroiro #people be sleeping on class b #class 1 b #kendou itsuka #tetsutetsu tetsutetsu #kamikiri #jurota shishida #pony tsunotori #class 1 a #my hero academia imagines #Shihai kuroiro x reader #kinoko komori

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keelywolfe · 5 years

Text

FIC: Bedside Stories ch.4 (baon)

Summary: Stretch is on a quest and just because it’s on a bus and not a steed, doesn’t mean it’s not noble.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established Relationships, Domestic, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Injury,

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

~~*~~

CH1 | CH2 | CH3

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

When Stretch jerked awake his first panicked thought was that he’d missed his stop. But no, the Embassy dropoff was coming up next, looming up through the bus windshield. Guess he had some latent directional sense buried in one of the dusty corners of his psyche.

Not like he’d meant to fall asleep, but Edge’s insomnia seemed to be contagious. He’d started out the ride browsing on twitter, trying to think of something noncommittal to say that also wasn’t too lighthearted, given what was blaring about Monsters lately on Fox news.

He'd been strictly forbidden from discussing anything surrounding the bombings with his followers and normally restrictions like that made him bristle, his nonexistent nerves going full porcupine. In this instance, he’d only meekly agreed, but that didn’t keep his followers from doing their math. No Humans actually knew how few skeleton Monsters there were, but then, most Monster species were a little on the sparse side. Some clever bloggers had linked pictures of Edge’s boots from Stretch’s twitter to the shots the press released of the bombing aftermath. Stretch hadn’t looked at those pictures too closely, but he’d seen the zoomed in shots with the boots circled with Microsoft paint.

Without him saying a word, it was suddenly an ill-kept secret that his husband was hurt and the messages were pouring in, asking for confirmation, offering condolences, donations, even sending prayers which was weird, but sorta kind. Sorta.

Twitter was less a distraction and more an unwanted obligation this week, and he’d finally put his phone away. He wasn’t the only Monster on board, not on a bus route that went past the Embassy. At this time of day, there weren’t many others. They’d offered smiles and murmured greetings, then pretty much left him alone.

That was fine by him. But with no one to chat to, he must’ve drifted off and it was nice to see he’d managed to scrape together enough good luck not to end up all the way downtown. Hopefully, he had enough leftover to take him to the end of this mission.

He was still a little bleary as he got off the bus. The sight of the protesters lining the sidewalk, all bundled up and sitting in their lawn chairs with their signs woke him up pretty damn quick. Eh, shit, he’d promised Edge he’d teleport right into the lobby, but he hadn’t called ahead and popping in when they were under high alert seemed like a poor life choice. Instead, he shortcutted to the front door, hey, he was following the spirit of the promise which was to keep safe and scaring the shit out of the security guard wasn’t it.

The guard on duty didn’t much look like he’d be surprised if Stretch shortcutted in on his lap. Murray was a huge, hulking Monster, with curling horns and a thirst for crosswords. He barely looked up at his current one, mumbling a greeting as Stretch swiped his card to push through the turnstile. He’d done pretty much the same thing every time Stretch stopped in, including when he’d shown up in just a bed sheet. There was one Monster who wasn’t worried about current events, almost had to admire that kind of skill in blatantly ignoring a crisis.

Stretch stepped into the elevator alone and pushed the button, vaguely humming the theme song to ‘Mission Impossible’. Not that it was, but eh, life could use a soundtrack from time to time.

It was too damn bad he didn’t have time to visit Andy while he was here; he hadn’t even seen his office yet and was planning to get him something for his desk. Maybe a Newton’s cradle, that seemed traditional, but a Nerf gun was a good way to build a community. He made a mental promise to come visit Edge for lunch someday and stop in bearing gifts.

The elevator dinged and Stretch got off, heading down the hallway. He’d only been here a couple of times, but he knew right where he was going.

The slim Monster sitting at the desk looked up as he came in, his cheery smile fading into something a little more forced. Asgore’s assistant, Kevin, was probably an okay guy, but none-too-fond of Stretch’s approach where his boss was concerned and Stretch was never exactly excited to spend any time with Asgore’s biggest fan. “Can I help you?”

“yeah. is ass-gore in or is he busy glad-handing his way down the hallways.” Really, Stretch couldn’t fathom why Kevin didn’t like him.

That forced smile iced over. “I beg your pardon.”

Slowly and deliberately, Stretch said, “is. asgore. in.”

“I’m afraid he’s not taking appointments today.” If Kevin got any colder, he’d be spitting ice chips across his desk and mess up all that important paperwork.

Stretch gave him a thin smile. “look we both know i’m in your office as a courtesy, so let’s go ahead and keep it courteous, yeah? i don’t want to play dodge-ums today after i scaring the shit out of him popping in, and he could probably do without any fresh surprises.”

He was pretty sure he was about to be told in very polite and courteous language to get fucked with the intercom crackled, Asgore’s voice booming over the line.

“Let him in.”

It was probably petty to smirk smugly at Kevin as he walked past him. It definitely was to give him a little backhanded finger-waggle of a wave. But eh, it served his purpose to use up a little of his distaste before he stepped into the office where Asgore was waiting behind the desk.

He started to rise and Stretch could almost feel the cheerfully ‘Howdy’ start to vibrate in the air before he choked it back to a more sedate, “Good afternoon, Stretch, won’t you sit down?”

Asgore gestured to a large, overstuffed sofa and Stretch almost said no, less out of ingrained spitefulness and more because he was agitated, already fidgeting with his lighter as he took a seat.

He waited while Asgore did the same, settling across from him in a chair that’d probably had to be specially made. Not many Humans hit Boss Monster sizes and those that did probably wished for a shorter inseam. It was hard enough for Stretch to find pants.

Asgore laced his hands comfortably over his belly and asked, “What can I do for you?”

“i need a favor,” Stretch said bluntly, ignoring Asgore’s visible surprise. He didn’t much have the time or inclination to draw this out, “i need you to let edge come back to work.”

The surprise on Asgore’s expression only deepened, leaving him distinctly taken aback, his furry caterpillar eyebrows drawn downward. Yeah, Stretch got that; him not only asking for a favor but for THAT favor was worth some eyebrow gymnastics.

“You want him back to work,” Asgore repeated slowly.

“i don’t actually, not really, but he needs to come back.”

“Is everything all right?” Asgore asked delicately. Looking into his concerned face was making his anxiety give the mambo a try; Stretch didn’t want to discuss Edge with Asgore, not as his King, his boss, or that fatherly role that he tried so hard to step into. He looked past him instead, at the picture on the wall between two bookcases. A painting, not a very good one, but recognizably of golden flowers. They didn’t transplant well from the Underground, a lot of Monsters mourned easy access to their favorite tea and Stretch wondered if Asgore had painted it. Maybe Frisk, the kid was fond of their adopted dad and--

Asgore was nothing if not polite and didn’t say anything while Stretch woolgathered long enough for enough yarn to make to make a sweater.

Shit or get off the pot was one of Red’s favorite idioms, not one of Stretch’s faves and kinda ironic considering that none of them had asses, but sometimes it was the truth. “i know you think you’re doing him a favor but you’re not. he’s stuck at home on our sofa, he can’t go running, can’t clean, can’t even cook, and he’s being forced to watch all this shit go down from the buzzfeed angle. you can’t take away his reason for living like this.”

The chair creaked ominously as Asgore shifted his weight. “I’d like to hope his job isn’t his reason for living.”

“it’s not the job. it’s helping people. he needs to help people,” Stretch took a deep breath, he was doing a shit job explaining this and Asgore didn’t look very convinced. “look, i know depressed, okay, and he’s verging on it. you have to give him something. i know him, better than you, better than anyone. he’s been glued to the boob tube all week, writing notes, making plans. let him help a little, it’ll calm all those protective instincts down if he thinks he’s helping.”

At least Asgore seemed to consider that. He propped his head up on a hand the size of a meatloaf. Or a chicken. “He hasn’t scheduled his mental health assessment yet.”

“i know. skip it for now, he’ll get it done later.”

Asgore frowned, his face creasing with concern. “The assessment is for his own good. It’s not simply bureaucratic nonsense, it is for his well being.”

Stretch was already nodding, absently noting the click-click-click of his lighter weaving in and out through his fingers. “i get that, i do. can you trust my assessment? look, i’ll get him into the head shrinker if that’s what you want, but don’t make his job conditional on it. i’m a big proponent of mental health care and i’ve got vested reasons for making sure he’s doing okay. but he needs this.”

Asgore was obviously thinking hard, looking at nothing over his steepled fingers, but Stretch wasn’t sure which side of the teeter-totter he was gonna come down on. Being able to read people’s intent and souls was a skill Stretch still had, but he was hella out of practice and didn’t really want to train back up.

“All right,” Asgore said at last. “On three conditions.”

“three!”

He spread his large hands. “This is not a small favor.”

Stretch sighed and slumped back. He wasn’t wrong and Stretch knew from personal experience that when Asgore had you by the balls, he knew how to give ‘em a good, firm twist. It was kinda chuckilicious, really. “start talking.”

“First, I tell him it’s my idea.”

“why?” Stretch said immediately. He had an inkling, but better to not take anything for granted.

Asgore was ready for him. “Because he will appreciate my trust in him and his skills, and because he will not appreciate you interfering like this. Am I wrong?”

He wasn’t. “deal.”

“Second, you promise me that you’ll get him in for that assessment. I’ll give you until the end of the month, but if it hasn’t been done, I‘ll suspend him.”

“promise.” There was a sour taste on the back of his tongue as he waited for the last ticky box.

“And last, you shake my hand.”

“what?” That one got him sitting forward, sputtering out, “why?”

“Because you’re asking a favor,” Asgore said serenely. He laced his hands over his soft middle again. “And those are my terms.”

Stretch glared hotly at him, but Asgore was unperturbed. Probably had lots of people scarier that Stretch giving him the ol’ death glare.

Welp, it was hardly the worst thing he’d ever done.

Stretch held out his hand and Asgore leaned forward to take it.

The loud whirr of the joybuzzer made Asgore jump and jerk his hand back, but he only laughed heartily, slapping his knees as he rose. “All right, I’ll have his access restored by this evening. I trust you’ll keep him from overdoing it?”

“yeah, i got it,” Stretch stood hastily and tucked the joy buzzer back into his pocket. He resisted the urge to scrub his hand on his pants. Asgore would take it wrong and he wasn’t that much of a dick, even if that furry palm made his bones tickle something fierce. He headed for the door, relief already seeping in. “thanks.”

“Stretch?” he paused, his hand on the doorknob. “I’m glad you came to me.”

“don’t make this into some bonding moment, okay?” Stretch gave him a side eye. “it’s not like i had a lot of other people to ask.”

Asgore’s smile twisted wryly. “Of course. Be careful on your ride home.”

Stretch didn’t say, ‘thanks, grandma’, but it was a close thing.

Simply walking past the daggers Kevin was glaring at him was exhausting and the second he was out of the office, Stretch shortcutted down to the elevators.

In no time he was safely back on the bus, slumped down. He was ready for another nap, but there wasn’t time for that. The main story line on his adventure was was done, but he still had a side quest to finish.

He opened an app on his phone and tapped in an order, and by the time the bus trundled to a halt at the bus stop outside the Golden City, it was waiting for him with one of their drivers, bundled into a warm jacket with the goods in hand. The young man who handed in the bag filled with cartons of yumminess only grinned at him, but he took the hefty tip Stretch offered without complaint.

Stretch plopped the heavy bag on the seat next to him and slumped back again, “home, jeeves,” Stretch mumbled to nobody and he hoped if he zonked out again one of the other Monsters on the bus would be kind enough to give him a nudge.

By the time he walked through his front door again, feeling worn and jelly-wobbly , Edge was awake and dressed, with an opened book in his hands.

“hey, babe,” Stretch called, kicking off his shoes and leaving them piled on the mat. “sorry i ditched on you, but my cooking skills have been tested to their limit and it’s a little late to hire gordon ramsey for the night.”

“Yes, I saw your note.” He set the book aside and his warm smile was like an infusion, easing some of Stretch’s weariness. “What treasures did you bring us from the shores of Ebott?”

“arr, matey,” Stretch laughed. “except i didn’t get any fish. hope chinese sounds good.”

“Golden City?” Edge said slowly and something in his voice made Stretch hesitate.

Shit.

They hadn’t been back there together since the whole thing with Andy. Stretch hadn’t even thought about that in a while, he’d gone over it with his therapist and that’d been crap, but honestly, he liked to put that one into the win category. Andy was okay and had a new job, the shitbags were in jail, and public opinion ended up on their side. Plus, he wasn’t about to let any assholes ruin Chinese food for him, thanks, but Edge didn’t look like he’d gotten that memo.

Stretch’d gone back on his own a couple times for the lunch special, had he ever mentioned that to Edge? He couldn’t remember, he hadn’t been hiding it or anything, it just never came up. Until now, and the last thing he wanted to do was get Edge to relive any other shitty event highlights.

“yeah, um,” Stretch forced cheer into his voice. “i had them bring the takeout bags to the bus stop, saved myself a walk.”

Whatever Edge was thinking in that head of his, he didn’t let it out to play. He only nodded, looking back at his book as he said, “Clever. It does sound good.”

“great!” Stretch said brightly, maybe not a firework, but he could try for a sparkler. “i’ll go get some plates.” With dismal humor, he thought that if he injected in any more manic cheer, he’d start to sound like his bro. He set the bags down on the coffee table next to the pile of pillows and headed for the kitchen, since Edge had very strong opinions on eating out of cartons that he wasn’t shy about sharing.

By the time they were settled in with their plates, whatever concerns Edge had about Stretch revisiting the scene of a crime, as it were, seemed to have been banished. He ate hungrily and that alone was a relief. He’d been picking at his meals for the past day or so and Stretch didn’t think his cooking was entirely to blame. Just added data to his hypothesis that with proper application, sex was a cure for many ills. Worked for him, anyway.

Halfway through the last carton of chop suey, Edge’s phone pinged. Stretch kept his attention on his plate, slurping up noodles with an impressive amount of noise for someone who lacked lips. Out of the corner of his socket he saw Edge frowning at the message.

“Asgore is restoring my Embassy access,” Edge said slowly. “He said that with everything that’s happening, they need my assistance, and he’s asking that I work half days for the rest of the week.”

Okay, here was where he put his acting skills to the test and if he couldn’t go for an Oscar, he at least needed a Golden Globe.

Stretch worked up what he hoped was the proper amount of indignant anger and said, “seriously? you got one week off to recover from almost getting blown up and ass-gore can’t even give you that?” And before Edge could say anything, he threw his hand up, dumping his empty plate on the coffee table hard enough for his fork to clatter. “you know what? never mind. go ahead, help out, at least it’ll be for a good cause and not him using you as an extra security guard.”

“No,” Edge set his phone aside, “I’m not doing it.”

Um, what? “what?” Stretch said blankly, fuck, he was going to get a razzy with this performance, must’ve chewed the scenery too hard.

“No. I was thinking while you were gone and I’ve been acting appallingly since we got home. I’ve been sulking like a child while you’ve been trying so hard to care for me.” He touched Stretch’s cheek bone gently, his glove velvety soft as he ran his thumb across it. “Considering how things were between us when I left for California, I think I need to focus more on you than paperwork.”

Well, this was some modern-day gift of the magi shit, now wasn’t it? Last week he would have been thrilled to hear this and now that he’d made a special trip and begged for favors he was getting hoisted by his own fibbing petard.

Okay, nope, his hard work was not going to be in vain, damn it, this chapter of his life was going to end with happiness and accolades all around. Edge might be the strategy guy, but Stretch wasn’t half-bad on the fly, and his plans might be a little loose, or chaotic as Edge put it, but he could plan.

First, he gave Edge a kiss, made sure to linger, made it sweet, soft, trying to pour his love into it, until he was almost distracted himself.

Next step, bullshit.

He leaned back, cupping Edge’s face in his hands and gave him the best smile he had left on the shelf. “that’s really sweet, babe, but how about a compromise? you can spend a couple hours in the afternoon working while i take a nap. that’ll let you get all your ‘save the world’ energy out in time for dinner, yeah?”

Ooh, might have a winner here. Edge was visibly wavering, probably thinking of all the luscious paperwork he could get through in a couple of hours. Time to go for the throat, “beside, janice is probably going nuts without you. if you help out, maybe she’ll be able to get home in time to see her kiddos before bedtime.”

Direct hit, winner winner, no chicken for dinner, “That...would be helpful, yes.” Edge gave him another toe-curling, shivery kiss before he murmured, “Promise me that you don’t mind?”

Stretch twitched back, grimacing. He’d been making an awful lot of promises lately. “i promise.”

He stood up to clear away the plates and leftovers, and by the time he got back, Edge already had his laptop out and was typing away. Stretch was about to put a movie on and let him work, but before he could even steal the remote, Edge said, “My access is also conditional on my getting that assessment.”

Um, wow, okay, they were actually talking about this? Cautiously, Stretch offered, “i take it you’re not a big fan of the idea.”

He tried to say it as neutrally as he could, but Edge set his laptop on the side table and took his hand, tugging him down into his lap. Stretch settled gingerly, watching his husband’s face carefully for any hint of discomfort. There was none, and he let Edge tuck his head against his shoulder, his hand smoothing down Stretch’s back.

“Stretch, i don’t mean to imply that there is anything wrong with therapy or that it’s somehow beneath me. I’m not that much of a hypocrite and I can see that it’s been helping you,” Edge hesitated and Stretch held his breath, remembering when Edge told him it was easier to talk sometimes if Stretch wasn’t looking at him. He kept his head down, snuggling into Edge in what he hoped was an encouraging way. “My issue is that it’s difficult for me to open up to anyone and this is a colleague. I see them in the hallways, in the cafeteria. I’m struggling with the idea of answering the kind of questions they might ask me.”

“okay,” Stretch said slowly. “so see someone else?”

Edge jerked and when Stretch lifted his head, he looked so surprised that Stretch couldn’t help smiling. Trust his baby to be looking for the answer to a complex puzzle when the easiest route was staring him in the face.

“i could talk to my therapist?” Stretch offered. “see if she could recommend someone.”

“A Human.”

“yeah, probably. would that be a problem?”

“I..no,” Edge said slowly. “No, I think that would be better. Perhaps I should simply talk with your therapist, I already know her and she’s done well for you and Sans.”

That made him feel a little squirmy inside; he told things to Doctor Lee that he’d never told anyone, not his own brother, not Edge. It was only an assessment, not like a weekly commitment, but--

“can i think about it?”

“Of course.” No concern, no anger, only another gentle kiss. He slipped off Edge’s lap before they got carried away, no double-dipping on afternoon delights while anyone had a cast. Stretch settled down on the sofa, the top of his skull leaning on Edge’s femur, and flicked a movie on, the volume low and subtitles running. Edge was typing away on his laptop, but occasionally a hand would stroke over his skull, helping to lull him to sleep.

Stretch couldn’t say how long he lay there drowsing, and he murmured a faint protest when Edge eventually pulled away and stood.

“I’m only getting a drink, love and I need to work out the kinks.”

“i can help you with any kink, make a list,” Stretch mumbled.

An amused sound close to his skull and a rough kiss pressed on top of it. “We’ll try that when I’m back on two feet.”

Vaguely, he heard Edge crutch his way to the kitchen, the door swinging open then shut, listening to the faint murmur of the television. The sudden crash was almost deafening, even through the kitchen door, jolting Stretch awake. Before he could do more than look around wildly, Edge called his name, and fuck, fuck, he’d never heard Edge like that, called his name, no, no, he yelled it, screamed it. Not hurt, no, he sounded scared when had Edge ever sounded scared?

Before he shortcutted into the kitchen, his magic running hot, ready to deal with what the fuck ever dared come to their house, his last darkly amused thought was that he shouldn’t have used all his good luck that afternoon.

-tbc-

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heyyyharry · 6 years

Text

Valentine’s Day Special: Roses Are Red…

(from the ‘Couple in Flat 102’ Series)

…in which Y/N and Harry spend Valentine’s Day with different people.

In this chapter: 10k words 😱, probably plenty of unedited mistakes, fluff, mostly fluff, a bit of smut at the end, Harry being soft and extra as always, cute flashbacks from their time as flatmates 🤷‍♀️

wattpad link

"Which color of these wedding dress would look good on me?"

Nam shifted closer to the bride-to-be so he can have a better look at the pictures in the wedding catalogue she was holding.

"Aren't these all white?"

His question and the perplexity on his face stole Y/N's and Layla's attention away from the glamour of these wedding shots. Layla immediately turned to Ben, who was sitting next to her on the couch as she scoffed. "Why did you get so offended when I said your ivory shirt was white, when the person you're dating is practically colorblind?"

"First of all." Ben raised one finger, obviously unamused by the girl's remark. "That shirt was obviously ivory, even someone like Harry could tell it was ivory."

Y/N couldn't help but snort when her fiancé's name was brought up because she knew it was true, if Harry had been there he would've been just as confused as Nam was right now.

"Second of all, Nam and I may be Treasure's godparents but we aren't dating, two gay people can be friends okay?"

Ben's clarification caused Nam to widen his eyes and release a slight laugh. "I expected at least one of those two statements was to defend me."

"Sorry, sweetie, I can't defend someone who doesn't know there are different shades of white."

Y/N and Layla exchanged looks, neither was convinced that there was nothing going on between their two gay friends. Y/N knew that they'd been spending a lot time together and not just to babysit her cat. But after having been cheated on twice, Ben was probably just being careful before letting himself fall head over heels for someone else. She couldn't really relate considering how happily in love she was, yet Y/N still somewhat understood why he didn't want to rush into another relationship, even though Nam was clearly a sweet guy.

"Questions!" Ben quickly raised a hand as if he was in a class and needed permission to speak his mind. "Shouldn't you discuss these things with Harry before consulting us? I'm surprised we're also choosing the wedding venue, what if he doesn't like it?"

"Harry and I share the work," Y/N cheerfully answered. "So he lets me decide the wedding date, venue, theme, decorations, food..."

"So the whole wedding then?"

Layla's cheeky comment made Y/N roll her eyes, still she went on, "...and he'll be in charge of the guest list, because, you know, he knows more people than I do."

"Sounds like the Harold I know." Layla gave her best friend a shrug. "He's always hated weddings, he only likes it for you."

"That's my man." Y/N sighed in contentment and a subconscious smile spread across her face. She always started grinning like a Cheshire Cat whenever she talked about him, and vice versa. Having been together for that long and now getting married, nobody knew how they could still be so in love with each other. But they were.

"I'm trying to have a few options for the wedding venue picked out today so we can have a carefree Valentine's Day tomorrow."

That year's Valentine's Day, Harry and Y/N had decided not to get each other anything and were just gonna spend time together, doing the things they enjoyed.

"Speaking of Valentine's Day..." Nam exchanged looks with Ben and Layla, not sure if he should tell Y/N this, but because she was his friend and he loved her so he ended up saying it anyway. "Shouldn't you be concerned that your future husband is hanging out with another girl the day before V-Day? Girl, I wouldn't be as chill if I were you, especially when that girl was obvious about her crush on my man."

Ben gasped as he heard what Nam had just said, his eyes broadened instantly. "Wait, he's with that Rose girl at the moment?"

"Yeah." Y/N nodded, her unusual composure was certainly not the reaction her friends were expecting to see. "They're not really hanging out. Her car broke down and the poor girl didn't have any friend so she called H to pick her up from her campus."

"You're telling me that little rich bitch couldn't call one of her fifteen personal drivers to come pick her up?" Layla scoffed, squinting her eyes in doubt at her best friend, who for some reasons still appeared pretty unbothered.

"I trust Harry completely, okay? You don't have to worry, because I don't. He's the most loyal man I know," Y/N said, as she gave her friend a reassuring smile.

The discussion about her fiancé and his twenty-year-old admirer was cut short when her phone lights up, notifying a new text message. This was probably the fifth one she'd got ever since they sat down on this couch. And judging by how annoyed she seemed when reading it, Ben just had to ask her who it was that'd been calling and texting her the entire morning.

"My new boss' being annoying again. I'm gonna call him back later."

She put the phone back down on the table without bothering to reply to those texts. After all, it was the weekend, and she'd got a wedding to plan which was way more important than anything else. Besides, she'd been working with that man for a couple weeks now, and she could bet there was nothing urgent at all, he just really enjoyed troubling her, even on her days off. But she didn't want to talk about or think about him at the moment, so she put her phone on airplane mode and assumed it would solve the problem.

Well, she was wrong.

It actually brought the problem to her front door.

The sound of door bell pulled everyone's attention away from their unfinished wedding planning business. Y/N didn't expect any guest at the moment, and it couldn't be Harry since she'd made sure to put the key in his pocket herself before he left the flat this morning, knowing how often he forgot his key.

Who else can it be?

The answer really shocked the girl when she came to open the door.

"What are you doing here?" Y/N exclaimed, eyebrows furrowed at the man standing in front of her.

Her unwelcoming attitude didn't offend her twenty-seven year old manager, in fact, it amused him. The attractive young man looked past her shoulder into her living room, smirking as he waved at Layla, Nam, and Ben, who were not even being subtle while checking him out. He didn't seem uncomfortable with all this attention he was receiving, so Y/N assumed that happened to him very often.

"You're having guests I see. Bad time?"

Y/N ignored his question and shut the door behind her so her friends couldn't listen to their conversation.

"What are you doing here, Jack?!" She asked again, more assertive this time because apparently making her life at the office a living hell wasn't enough for him.

"You didn't answer my calls."

"I was busy and it's Saturday!"

"The clients don't care if it's the weekend," Jack spoke calmly, pulling out his phone as he showed her an email he'd just received. "They've changed their mind about the entire plan for the opening event. They don't like it anymore and want to meet us tomorrow to discuss the changes."

"Us?!" She dropped her jaw, pointing to her face. "Why do I have to go? You're the VP!"

"You were the one who wrote and presented the plan. Now they want to change it so you're coming with me."

Y/N heaved a sigh, looking slightly worried.

"But tomorrow is..." Valentine's Day!!! "...Sunday."

"So? Told you the clients didn't care if it's the weekend." He gave her a shrug like it was no big deal.

Y/N swore that was the first time she'd met someone who was more obsessed with their job than she was, and also a conceited asshole who'd been breathing down her neck ever since he replaced her lovely old vice president. She had never hated anyone that much since...well, Harry.

Gosh, why am I comparing this douchebag to my future husband?! She thinks, Harry was lowkey a sweetheart; Jack, on the other hand, probably has a heart made of ice.

"Tomorrow, 10AM," said the man as he put his phone back into his jacket and pointed a finger to her. "I'll text you the address, and I don't want to hear any excuse for being late, not even a minute."

"Seriously?! Why do you hate me?!!!" She shouted after him when he walked off. But Jack didn't say anything else, he simply shot her a teasing smirk, and just like that, disappeared into the lift.

When Y/N returned inside, all six eyes were fixed on her, staring at her like she'd committed an awful crime, or wearing the most ridiculous outfit of all time.

"What?"

"Who's that?" Layla asked with a smirk.

"My boss."

"Does Harry know your new boss is hot?" The next question from Ben got Y/N to laugh as she shook her head fast.

"He only knows my new boss is an asshole, which is more correct by the way."

"But he is hot," Nam joined in. "Maybe he's got a thing for you, I mean, he showed up at your door literally five minutes after you didn't answer his text."

"He was here to talk about work." Y/N gave her friend a funny look because the idea of Jack being attracted to her, even a tiny bit, was absolutely absurd. "It's strictly business, guys. And Jack doesn't have human feelings anyway so...But don't say anything to H, he'll freak if he thinks my boss is into me."

"Is his name really Jack?" Ben seemed weirdly excited about the name and Y/N didn't know why so she just nodded her head, looking at him funny.

"Oooh, I have the perfect wedding theme for ya!" He exclaimed with a massive grin as she sat back down. "How about Titanic? Get it? Jack and Rose?"

Despite how thrilled he was to have discovered that coincidence, everyone else just stared at him with a straight face.

"That was a terrible joke, wasn't it?" He asked and Nam patted him on the back for encouragement, whereas Layla just saw that as an opportunity to tease Ben.

"Congrats, you can now be Harry's new BFF!"

Layla and Y/N fist-bumped in reaction to how offended Ben looked after being compared to Harry. Despite having a good laugh about the situation, subconsciously, Y/N hoped her friends weren't right, and that the Titanic duo wouldn't ruin her Valentine's Day.

As Y/N got back to the planning, Harry just arrived at Rose's university campus. He found the poor girl waiting for him in the parking lot, hair tied up in a high ponytail and the wet paint stains on her clothes, arms and hair had him confused.

"Is everything alright?" He asked immediately as he stepped out of his car and approached her.

With a tired smile, she told him, "my car broke down."

"No I mean, why are you covered in paint?" He eyed her from head to toes and exhaled a laugh.

Rose knew she probably looked like a silly mess right now, yet when she saw those dimples on his face, she felt like the happiest girl alive. So she enthusiastically answered, "I was building my own booth for the students' flea market tomorrow."

"Cool. What are you selling?"

"Myself."

His eyes grew wide in reaction to her unexpected answer.

"Sorry, bad joke." Rose giggled, shaking her head. "I'm gonna do a kissing booth, because, you know, it's Valentine's Day tomorrow."

"A kissing booth? Nice! Reminds me of my student years."

"You did a kissing booth as well?" She seemed pretty amused, eyes squinting at the man. "I bet you earned plenty from it."

"No, no, not me, my missus' book club did a kissing booth to raise a fund for charity, I showed up thinking she was gonna be at the booth, but she wasn't, and I was very disappointed, didn't get to kiss her that night."

The way Harry started smiling as soon as he mentioned his 'missus' absolutely shattered Rose, still she faked a smile and spoke like nothing was wrong, "wow, you two have been together for that long? That's very admirable."

"Yeah, we were flatmates then," he answered with a vibrant beam on his face. "It's a long story, I'll tell you another time."

"Oh, okay...I assume you're gonna be busy tomorrow night then?"

"Yeah, I'm spending the whole day with Y/N."

Despite already knowing his answer, Rose still got disappointed, but the frown on her face didn't get to stay for too long because afterward he told her, "maybe we'll stop by and say hello."

'We'

Rose didn't like the sound of that, and the thought of meeting his wife-to-be was already heart-wrenching. However, Rose was still curious about the girl he was in love with, she wanted to know what she was like, so while grinning from ear to ear, she clapped her hands and told him she couldn't wait to finally meet Y/N.

"What are you doing tomorrow night?"

Y/N's eyes nearly popped out of the sockets when she received that question from her flatmate. It was February 14 tomorrow, and she expected Harry to already have his own plans; considering how popular he was, girls would be lining up to be his Valentine. What she didn't expect was him to come into her room as she was getting ready for bed, and ask her that question.

Did he want to spend time with her on Valentine's Day? Or was he just checking if she was gonna leave the flat, so he could bring someone over?

No, Y/N, you need to calm down.

"Why?" She asked him cautiously, and that look on her face put a smile on his.

"Since neither of us has a Valentine, I was uhm...thinking...maybe we could do something...together."

"Yeah, like what?" She tried to hold back the exhilaration from showing only to fail miserably. Though there was nothing official about their relationship, or even friendship, she knew he had a soft spot for her as she did for him. And it made her so happy that he wanted to hang out with her on Valentine's Day.

"Like...well...we can...uhm..." Harry stuttered for a few seconds since this was all new to him, the struggling was etched on his face. "What...what would you like to do?"

Ooooh, Y/N was glad he'd asked, because she had a lot of suggestions for their 'non-official' date. She opened her mouth, just about to start ranting about the things she'd always wanted to do and places to go, but all of a sudden, she remembered something that crashed her entire vision of a romantic night out with Harry.

"Oh no, I've got plans tomorrow night."

Her announcement turned him to stone right on the spot. He shifted a little bit on the edge of her bed and cleared his throat, trying to remain cool.

"What? With whom?" He asked, breathing out a nervous chuckle.

"With the people at my book club." Her answer made him sigh in relief, well, not literally. "We're doing a kissing booth."

"Shit, really?"

"You can come if you'd like, all the money will go to charity."

Harry didn't know what to say. Was she seriously asking him to come and see her kiss other people? But on second thought, if she was gonna kiss random people on Valentine's Day, he should show up as well.

"Okay, I'll take my friends there, charity is...important." He smiled nervously and his heart nearly burst from joy for how elated she looked as she thanked him.

The truth was, Harry'd never really spent Valentine's Day with a girl before. In fact, he hated Valentine's Day. When he was in high school, girls usually snuck flowers and cards and little gifts into his locker, hoping they'd get his attention, but he didn't care, sappy stuff like those only annoyed him. So of course, he had never done the same for any girl.

That year, however, things had certainly changed for Harry. He'd got a girl to care about and even though she didn't know it yet, she was his Valentine. He wanted to do something special. He didn't know how to do it without being too extra and obvious about his feelings for her, even though it was already pretty obvious. He wasn't sure where they stood, or what they wanted themselves to be to each other. Sure they'd been heavily flirting ever since Christmas when she gave him a kiss on the cheek, but they'd never once said how they felt about each other. He wanted to know how she felt about him, but at the same time, afraid of the answer, and of admitting how he felt about her.

So he sought for advice from Niall, not because his best friend was 'the expert of love' or anything, just because he'd got no better choice.

"Give her flowers."

"That's the lamest thing ever!" Harry snorted at his friend's suggestion. He didn't expect much from Niall, but flowers? Really? "What did you get your previous girlfriend?"

"Nothing. I forgot it was Valentine's Day, that was why we broke up."

Harry rolled his eyes and patiently asked again, "how about the one before that?"

"I got her flowers."

"Why are you even my friend?" Harry buried his face into his palm as he sat down on his best friend's bed. Niall, who was now sitting at the desk facing Harry, gave him a little shrug while tapping the pen on the pile of books in front of him, trying to come up with a better solution.

"I can ask Layla for you if you want."

"No! I don't want Layla to think I'm in love with Y/N!"

"Dude, everyone knows you're in love with Y/N!"

"Admitting it is a different thing!" Harry scoffed, hands tangled in his own hair. "Okay, so I know there are at least two people who are into Y/N."

"How the fuck do you know that?" Niall cracked up. "Have you been stalking her? Reading her diary?"

"Fuck no! She told me! She just wasn't interested, but I'm afraid if those guys do something for her on Valentine's Day, she'll fall for one of them."

"No she won't, Y/N likes you, we all know that."

"No we don't, not...for sure at least." Harry slowly shook his head, eyes fell to the floor. "I don't want to lose her..."

"Then tell her how you feel," Niall said it casually, like it was easy when Harry knew better that it was not.

"If I could just tell her then I wouldn't even need to ask you what to do."

"What's stopping you then?"

He didn't answer that question. If he started listing out the things that keep him from confessing his feelings for his flatmate, the list would be endless. He could give a thousand reasons to just give up on Y/N and try to move on, one of it being...she was Y/N, sweet, innocent Y/N who was way too good for someone like him, and him hurting her would be much worse than his own heartbreak. But he only needed one reason to keep on loving her, and it was also because...she was Y/N, sweet, innocent Y/N who was way too good for someone like him.

"Don't worry mate, you'll come up with something," Niall said, giving his friend an encouraging smile. And Harry really hoped that he would.

Y/N had decided to tell Harry about Jack, everything, from him showing up at their door to him giving her no choice but to be at work on Valentine's Day. At first she'd thought it would just be a meeting, lasting about one or two hours top, but turned out, they were gonna have to spend the entire day monitoring the organizing process and coming up with solutions for the new adjustments in the original plan, because apparently, the clients changed their mind like the weather.

"I feel so bad now that I can't spend Valentine's Day with you...I'm so so sorry, baby..." She sighed, holding his head close to her chest while they were cuddling on the bed with their cat, who was sleeping soundly on Y/N's stomach right now.

"It's okay love, I can't say I'm not disappointed but it's not like you have a choice." He looked up to meet her eyes and showed her a smile. "Your boss really is a dick."

"He's still my boss."

"Yeah." He nodded, furrowing his eyebrows. "Don't worry, babe, one day you're gonna be your own boss."

The corners of her lips curved into a smile when she heard him. "Until that day, I'm gonna have to tolerate people like Jack. Ugh... don't know why he hates me so much."

"You told me you disagreed with him once at his first meeting."

Now that she was reminded about that argument she'd had with her boss in front of the other employees, Y/N got all riled up again. "Well, maybe if he hadn't said such bullshit and forced everyone to think his way! I mean, it's the twenty-first century now and women are allowed to have their own opinions!"

Her annoyance amused Harry somehow as he chuckled and reached up to gently comb a few strands of hair out of her face.

"I'm in love with a feminist, hmm?" His remark made her giggle. She was so glad to have him around and make everything better.

Harry carefully sat up, trying not to cause too much movement that might wake up their sleeping cat. Then he laid soft kisses across her neck and smirked when she released a soft moan in response.

"You do your thing and I'll pick you up when you're done," he whispered into her ear while nibbling on it. "Then we'll have a quiet dinner, just the two of us at home, yeah? I'm gonna make dinner."

"You? Making dinner?" She raised both eyebrows, turning to the side a bit to rest her forehead against his, holding his face with one hand. Her teasing caused him to laugh and scrunch up his nose.

"Shut up, I'm still learning," he said.

"Could everyday be Valentine's Day please?" She giggled before kissing his cheek.

Obviously, Y/N didn't think much when she made that wish. It was not until now, on Valentine's morning, when she was standing in front of her client's representative and listening to this woman dissing all the ideas she'd spent many sleepless nights working on, that she realized she didn't want everyday of her life to be like today. She'd never hated her job more than this moment.

Jack wasn't there yet. It was ironic that he'd been the one who'd warned her not to show up late, not even a minute, when now it'd been over half an hour and he was still nowhere to be seen. And because he wasn't there, she had to take all the rage from their angry client.

The woman looked around the venue in distress as she paused her rambling to release a long heavy sigh.

"This place can't even fit 300 guests, and it certainly doesn't look like a fashion event if it's held here."

"300? How has the number gone up to 300?" Y/N was in shock, but the woman from the other firm turned her nose up at the poor girl.

"We've expanded the guest list, no big deal," she said, sticking out her bottom lip like the opening event of her firm is a children's playdate, and it drove Y/N up the wall.

"Adding 100 more people is a big deal!"

"You've got nearly a week to figure it out."

Those words really made Y/N's blood boil. She opened her mouth, about to tell this woman off, when a familiar voice interrupted her all at once.

"Sorry I'm late," said Jack as he calmly approached the two ladies. Y/N had never been happier to see him, well, she'd never been happy to see him until now.

"Nearly 40 minutes late," she whispered to him when he stood by her side, resulting in a smirk on his face.

"Sorry, went back to get something," he told Y/N under his breath before turning to the other woman and instantly putting on the most charming smile he could fake to ease her anger. It did work, it'd always worked.

"Mr. Coleman, lovely to see you again!"

Y/N couldn't say she wasn't offended by this tremendous attitude change from the lady right here. She supposed some people can get really blind in presence of a good-looking human being. She couldn't blame her though, Jack knew his ways around people, that charming public persona could win over even the grumpiest ones. Wait, but now that she really thought about it, she couldn't recall ever seeing Jack being mean to any other person, only her. Okay now, she was even more offended!

"I guess there's a bit of a problem here, Ms. Flores?"

"Oh, call me May." She waved her hand and giggled like a teenager. Is this woman for real? Thought Y/N, yet she stayed quiet and lets Jack do the talking. "So this venue is too small for our guest list, we've recently decided to boost the number to 300 guests."

"300?" Jack also seemed stunned. "That's 100 more!"

"See I was trying to—"

Jack immediately nudged Y/N and signaled her to let him handle this.

"You should've thought of a backup plan in case your clients wanted to change the guest list, how unprofessional!" The woman glared at Y/N, who looked at Jack, waiting for him to back her up. And surprisingly, he did.

"It's not her fault."

Those words that'd come out from his own mouth left a huge shock look on Y/N's face, her mouth was agape as she stared at him wide-eyed. "I was the one who proposed the idea of having the event here and I didn't consider the possible changes in the plan, so I apologize for all this inconvenience. It's not Ms. Y/L/N's fault as she was just presenting my proposal."

"Oh...Okay, so how are you gonna fix this?" Asked the lady, now that she was convinced it was really Jack's mistake, she seemed to be more at ease, which slightly upsetted Y/N. But she was just glad Jack'd rescued her when he could've just pin all the blame on an employee like her to save his face.

After a long negotiation, Jack managed to have their clients reduce the number of guests back down to a hundred and they didn't have to change the venue at the last minute.

"Wow, who would've known organizing an event could be this hard!" Said Y/N as she was watching people putting up the lights and getting the sound system ready, already thinking about how hard it was gonna be for her to finish planning her wedding.

Jack was standing next to her, his eyes were fixed on the girl, and not what he was supposed to be paying attention to. A big smile displayed on his lips as he questioned her, "your first time being in charge of a project?"

"Yeah, since I was new they didn't actually let me do anything on my own," she replied, turning to look at him. "But I fucked up this time so I get why they doubted my abilities."

"You didn't fuck up." He smirked, slightly amused by hearing her curse because he didn't take her as a person who would ever say a bad word. "You did a great job."

"I did?"

"Yeah." He nodded then leaned in closer to whisper to her, "that woman was pretty annoying by the way."

His comment made her laugh. It was actually the first time she'd laughed at anything he'd ever said.

"I'm sorry you had to take the blame for me though, I feel very guilty."

Jack gave her a shrug with his hands shoved in the pockets of his trousers. "Don't be. That's what bosses do, take responsibilities for their employees. And I did ask you to work on the plan, you did it on your own, put hard work in it, and you did well. The clients can be mean sometimes, but you're not allowed to disagree with them. Take my advice, let them think they're right and try to maneuver the plan back to how you think works best by negotiating."

"I'm just not good at..." she paused and heaved a sigh "...dealing with people."

"I know, that's what I like about you."

She immediately dropped her jaw and shot her head up to stare at him, unable to believe he'd just said those words. Jack pretended like he didn't see that dumbfounded look on her face, he tilted his head and told her to follow him.

"Come. I'll show you the PR clip and you can tell me what you think."

"Oh my God, why are we here?!" Layla complained, again. In fact, that was all she'd been doing since she got out of the car. "Let's just go to Ruth's party instead, where the cool people are!"

Liam didn't even hesitate to jump on board with the girl. "I agree with Layla, why are we at a flea market?"

To be honest, Harry hadn't even known there was a flea market on campus tonight until Y/N told him so. He wasn't interested in any activities by the student clubs of the university, but since Y/N was a member of a few so maybe he'd changed his mind a bit and stopped assuming that if you were in a club then you were all lame.

"Because Harold promised Y/N he would come," Niall spoke for Harry, who immediately glared at his best friend for saying that out loud for everyone to hear. However, nobody seemed to be surprised.

"I personally think this is fun!" Said Louis who threw an arm over Harry's shoulders and the other in the air. "They're selling beer over there, that's all I care about."

"And Y/N's club has a kissing booth!"

Niall, once again, received dead eyes from Harry.

"A kissing booth? Wow, where?" Trix, who had to hurry up to catch up with the group, finally spoke up. She'd been so distracted by all of those heart balloons they had just walked past until she heard the keywords that got her attention.

"Booth number 27 she told me," said Harry as he awkward scratched the back of his head.

"Is she gonna be at the booth?"

"Of course, Harold's expecting a kiss on Valentine's Day!" Niall answered Liam's question before Harry could even open his mouth, and this time Harry didn't even bother to try and stop his best friend anymore. All the beans had been spilt.

"So you're paying money to get a kiss from your crush? That's sad."

Layla only wanted to tease Harry, it was a harmless joke, but it really hurt his feelings, because she was right. Receiving a kiss from her at the booth wouldn't make him special, he was gonna be like all the other guys who got to kiss her.

Fortunately, luck was smiling at Harry on this lovers' night, because Y/N wasn't gonna be giving out kisses to random people. She was actually selling tickets, and when he saw her talking to the people waiting in line with a bright smile on her face, he felt his heart skip a beat.

"Oh man, so this means I won't get to kiss Y/N?" Louis joked and Harry slightly pushed him by the shoulder then told him to shut up.

Layla rolled her eyes as she looked at everyone, seemingly unimpressed. "Are we gonna go somewhere else now, or...?"

"No way, I'm gonna be in line, that girl in the booth is hot!" Liam said quickly then joins the other people who were waiting for their turns and Louis soon followed him for the same reason. Layla then turned to Niall, who still looked so uncertain whether he should go with them or stay.

"You can go if you want," she told him with a straight face then walked off without saying another word. And Niall took it as a cue to follow her, waving goodbye at Harry before he was gone.

Here goes nothing, Harry thought to himself then made his way towards his flatmate, who had just spotted him and now was waving her hand to get his attention.

"Hey, don't cut the line, moron!" Someone shouted at him when he went the the head of the line. Harry meant to turn around and shout back at them, but Y/N already had it all handled.

"He's only here to talk to me, you're not getting a kiss with that attitude!" She told the guy, making Harry laugh.

"You shout at people now? Who are you?" He gave her a cheeky grin, receiving one back.

"Try standing here for two hours and you'd understand why I get irritated by mostly anything!" She breathed and handed the tickets back to a girl next to her as she asked her to take her place so she could go talk to Harry a bit.

"So..." Y/N took a deep breath as they walked together away from her kissing booth. Harry was trying his best not to hold her hand right now. It was right there, brushing against his several times by accident, and it was so hard not to grab it. Oh the things she does to him. "...where are your friends?"

"Liam and Louis are waiting in line at your booth, we kind of lost Trix, and Niall followed Layla, I don't know where they are now."

"Thank you for bringing your friends here," she told him with a shy smile. "I mean, I heard about the party at Ruth's, you could be there, but you're here so..."

"Ruth throws party every weekend, it's not fun anymore," he lied to her. That wasn't why he'd decided not to go, obviously.

"Have you received any special gift from someone yet?" He asked after letting the silence take over for a couple seconds. He didn't want to know what the other guys had done for her, but at the same time, needs to know so he could step up his games.

"Well, yeah, the two guys I told you about..."

"Yeah?"

"One gave me a sloppy handwritten card with only three words 'Happy Valentine's Day', and the other gave me balloons and a box of chocolate, along with a sappy two-page love letter," she said, rolling her eyes and that was the reaction he'd been hoping to see. She wasn't interested in either of them, one barely put in effort while the other was too extra. Harry was now pretty proud of his little gift for her because he was in the safe zone.

"How about you, Harry? Probably got plenty?"

Some girls had come up to him this morning after some of his classes to ask him out tonight, but he'd turned them all down, for her. He wasn't sure he could tell her that though.

"Nope, you know how I feel about romance and shit."

"Don't have to tell me twice." She snorted, when suddenly her phone notified her of a new text.

"What is it?" He asked when he saw the look on her face.

"They want me back at the booth, that girl I asked to take my place left the spot without telling anyone, and now no one's there to sell tickets," she told him with an unpleasant grimace.

"It's okay, I'll walk you back," he said and they turned around to return to her friends. Suddenly, he remembered something and stopped halfway, pulling out his wallet from the pocket of his jacket.

"Here," he handed out some money, leaving her a bit confused. "Uhm...I want to contribute something to your charity fund, but I don't want to kiss anyone." Anyone that's not you.

"I can't accept this, silly, put it back." She scoffed, pushing his hand away, but he refused to comply.

"Just take it." He shoved the money in her hand with a smirk. "It's not like the money is for you anyway, silly."

The way he mimicked her voice made her laugh. So Y/N thanked him and watched him put his wallet away. He had his cute little dimples on and was humming a familiar tune she couldn't recall what song it was from, all she knew was that he looked so adorable, and his good intention really won her over.

"Wait."

He raised an eyebrow at her when she grabbed his arm."You're not giving me back the money now. I already put my wallet away."

"Not that!"

"Then what?"

She parted her lips with the intention of saying something else, but then she changed her mind, keeping the words to herself, and tiptoed to kiss him on the cheek, again, like she had on Christmas' Eve under the mistletoe.

Harry was absolutely shocked. When she pulled away, he gently put his hands to where her lips had been and his mouth fell opened but no words escaped. Y/N thought that look was just priceless.

"Just to be fair, you're still getting a kiss, and we're getting money." She waved the valuable piece of paper in front of his face and Harry swore he had to use all of his inner strength not to pull her in for a real kiss. A simple peck on the cheek could get all the butterflies in his stomach to come alive and go insane, so now he wondered what would happen if they had kissed. He would've probably burst into flame.

"Harry!" Her voice pulled him back to reality and he had to blink a few times to realize where he was. "Why are you standing there? Hurry up, I must get back now!"

Without waiting for a reply, she just took his hand without warning, and didn't let it go until they were finally back at the booth.

"Flea market! Ahhh memories!" Layla excitedly exclaimed as she threw her arms in the air and received worrying looks from Niall and Harry.

"Why are you two here?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow. He only remembered telling Niall about going to stop by and say hello to Rose before going to pick Y/N up, he didn't remember asking Niall to come along, bringing Layla with him.

"The question is, why are you here?" Layla asked, pointing a finger to his chest and Niall just seemed so done he didn't even try to intervene.

"Chill, Y/N knows I'm here."

"So?"

"So, I'm only here because I promised Rose I'd stop by, and then I'm going straight to pick up my girl." Harry scoffed, thinking Layla was absolutely ridiculous. He just felt bad that Rose didn't actually have a friend and he appreciated that she considered him as one. "Don't you guys trust me? I'm not gonna cheat on Y/N."

"I trust you, not that little girl," Layla said, hands on her hips, eyes narrowing at Harry. "I'd like to meet her to see how thick her skin is. A normal person won't go this far to pursue someone who's already engaged."

Harry gave Niall a questioning look, and Niall raised two hands in the air to defend himself, saying he had nothing to do with this and was only there because he had to.

"Okay fine," Harry said at last. "If you two want me to be your thirdwheel, then stay."

"Great!" Layla cheered, grabbing Niall's arm and pulling him along as they both followed Harry to find Rose's booth.

When they arrived, they saw a long line waiting. At first Layla and Niall were very curious, but as soon as they saw what Rose looked like, they kind of understood why there were so many desperate people gathering there at her kissing booth.

"She is pretty."

"What did you just say, Niall?"

"Nothing, love."

Layla huffed then turned to Harry, who, instead of looking at Rose like the other males here, was on his phone, texting Y/N, and the crinkles between Layla's brows eased at once.

"So which one of us is gonna kiss her when it's our turn?" Niall asked, chuckling at his own joke, but he instantly regretted it when he saw the look on Layla's face.

"No one!" She groaned, switching her eyes between the two guys. "Why are we lining up anyway?"

"Because it's a polite thing to do?"

"Well, thanks Niall, if we're gonna be polite, we're gonna wait until tomorrow, look at this long ass line!" Layla said in annoyance as she grabbed both Niall's and Harry's hand then dragged them with her to the front of the line, ignoring people shouting at them not to cut in.

Once Rose saw Harry's face, she quickly ran out of the booth, making plenty of people upset, but she didn't seem to care. She told them that she was taking a break before pulling Harry in for a hug, probably would stay glued to him if Layla didn't interfere by pulling him back.

"Oh, this is..." Rose looked at her, not knowing why this girl she had never met before in her life seemed so hostile. Y/N had been to Harry's office before so Rose knew that wasn't her.

"These are my friends, Layla and Niall," Harry said, smiling at the girl, who exhaled a laugh, shaking her head and said hello to them with enthusiasm.

"Where's Y/N?" She asked, looking behind him, expecting to see the girl he was gonna marry, but just like last time at the party, Y/N didn't show up.

"She got stuck at work," replied Harry.

"But it's Sunday, how obsessed is she with her job? Jesus!"

"Honey, when you finally grow up, graduate and actually have to work, you'll understand."

"Layla!" Niall stopped his girlfriend by grabbing her by the hand and pulled her with him. "Let's go over there, okay? I'll buy you some flowers."

Layla agreed to come along, but before she left, she didn't forget to give Rose a warning death glare just to remind the girl where she actually stood.

"Do you think your friends hate me? I wasn't trying to be mean, I was only kidding," Rose said, putting both hands on her chest and shaking her head apologetically.

"Don't worry, Layla acts like that with everyone, it's alright," Harry assured her and pressed his lips into a smile. "Do you sell anything here? I'll buy one to support you."

"Only my kisses!" She answered with a huge grin then noticed how awkward he seemed so she tried to fix it. "Not that you can buy one anyway, but you don't have to support me, I've made enough money today."

Harry nodded. Rose assumed that beam on his face was for her, but it was actually him remembering the little kiss Y/N had give him for a kissing booth on that same day a few years ago.

"What do you need this money for?" He asked her suddenly. "If you don't mind that I ask."

"Well, I want to buy new stuff for my design studio but I don't want to ask for daddy's money," she told him with a slight shrug. "People just assume I live on his money and I don't like that."

"I've never thought so, you seem very independent."

"You think so?"

"Yeah."

By saying that, he'd made her day even though she didn't tell him that. Rose intertwined her hands and told him she should get back inside before those people went insane and demanded a refund.

"Have a fun night!" He said, waving at her.

"You too," she replied, and this time, the lack of her usual positive energy was quite obvious. She wished him a happy Valentine's Day, didn't sound like she meant it, but as she watched him walking away towards Layla and Niall, she knew he didn't notice anyway.

Harry and Y/N stumbled out of the lift into the hallway, nearly tripping on their feet as they were drowning in laughter on their way back to their shared flat.

"Good evening, kids!" Ben greeted the two young people as he locked his front door and Y/N broke into a smile, waving at her neighbor.

"Hey, Ben! Going out on a date?"

"Yeah, I'm picking Mark up from his workplace and we're going to this restaurant. You two wanna join us? Like a double date!"

Harry and Y/N dropped the beam on their faces instantly as they exchanged looks by accident before shifting their eyes away from each other real quick to avoid the awkwardness.

"I'll take that as a no then..." Ben squinted his eyes at them, sensing something weird but didn't want to say it out loud. "Happy Valentine's Day, you two."

"Happy Valentine's Day!" Harry shouted after Ben and lingered there for a little while to watch Ben go, even though Y/N had entered their flat.

The neighbor was seemingly in a hurry as he headed straight to the lift, wearing a nonchalant smile because he was so excited to see his fiancé. Harry thought, maybe one day, when things had changed, that was gonna be him.

"Harry, why are you still out there?!"

"Uh...Coming!"

Harry walked into the flat then straight off told Y/N he was gonna take a shower before dinner. She didn't suspect a thing and didn't expect anything because even though it was Valentine's Day, they were only just friends. But when she went back to her room after he'd gone to his and turned on the light, on the bed she found a small teddy bear facing the door, wearing a cute little hat and a red ribbon as a bowtie, next to it lied a little card, on which written two lines in Harry's all too familiar hand-writing.

Roses are red, violets are blue,

I suck at poems, this is the best I can do. H. :)

"Harry! Harry! Harry!"

When Y/N rushed into Harry's room, all out of breath, he was grabbing his clothes from the closet and just about to head to the shower. He saw the look on her face and the bear she was holding and instantly started beaming at her.

"You like it?" He asked before she could say a word. "I didn't know what to get you, Niall suggested me to buy flowers but...flowers die so..."

Y/N thinks she was going to cry, but she was glad she didn't. She'd just received gifts today, so why did she get so emotional over a teddy bear? Maybe because it was from Harry, who couldn't shut up about how much he hated Valentine's Day and 'romance and shit', maybe because she loved him so much, she didn't think he could ever tell. Whatever the reason, she was now over the moon.

"Why did you think you should get me anything though?" She asked, taking a couple steps towards him and she could feel how nervous he was through the look he was giving her and the way his lips were quivering.

"Well, because you're my..." He sucked in a breath when she stopped in front of him. "...best friend."

"I am?" She raised a grin.

He nodded his head and teasingly patted the top of her head like she was a little kid. "Congratulations, you can now go tell everyone."

Y/N breathed out a laugh as she brushes his hand away. She then surprised him for the second time that night by throwing her arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug. It took Harry quite a moment to get grip on reality and finally held her back, hoping she couldn't feel his heart thumping like a drum.

"You're my best friend too, H. Happy Valentine's Day!" She whispered into his ears, and those simple words had given this day a lot more meaning.

So, "Happy Valentine's Day, love," Harry said back as he made sure to leave out the most important three words, which remained a secret between him and his heart only.

When Jack walked Y/N out of the building to his car parked out front, it was already dark outside. The many pedestrians walking past them were either couples holding hands or lonely people heading home to spend the night alone. Strangely, Y/N began to wonder whether her boss was the first type or the latter. After today, she thought everything she'd thought she'd known about him was all incorrect.

"Thanks for spending today working with me," he said at last, inhaling the cool February air as he looked around, everywhere but her. "I know it was harsh to ask you to spend Sunday at the office."

"It's fine. I'm glad it's over now." She pretended to wipe off her sweat and blew up her cheeks, the gesture put a smile on his face.

Jack nodded his head towards his car and asks her if she wanted a ride home, that was when she knew he was the latter type since he didn't seem to be in a rush to go see a special someone. She thanked him for the offer, but explained that her fiancé was already on his way to pick her up, the news came as a surprise to Jack apparently.

"You're engaged?" He almost looked like he didn't believe her. So she showed him the ring on her hand and another smile. "Wow, didn't notice the ring. Congratulations."

"Thank you."

"He's not upset that I stole you from him on Valentine's Day, is he?"

"He is, very." Y/N furrowed her eyebrows and Jack cracked a beam.

"Well, shit. Am I in trouble?"

"Hope not."

Jack noticed that Y/N was cold and offered her his coat, to which she refused at first, but he insisted her on taking it anyway. He threw it over her shoulders, then told her to wait as he went get something from his car. She expected it to be some files for her to prepare at home because it was Monday tomorrow, but it turned out to be the last thing she would think of, a box of chocolate.

"This is for you."

"For me?" She looked at him like he was joking, at least hoping that he was.

"Yes. I felt guilty for ruining your day off so I got you a Valentine's gift...not that you need one from me anyway." She didn't get what he actually meant by that, yet she didn't ask. "I almost forgot it at home this morning."

"You came back to get this?" She broadened her eyes at the man. "Was this why you were late?"

"Yeah. Pretty much."

"Well...thank you." She didn't know what else to say so she stayed quiet, and so did he.

Five minutes passed by, Y/N had no clue why he was still there when he could've just gone home because someone was coming for her anyway. As if he knew what she was thinking, Jack immediately answered the inquiry in her head, "it's not safe for you to stand here alone. I'll wait with you."

But as soon as he finished that sentence, two headlights approached them and Harry's car pulled over by the pavement. He stepped out, perplexed to see his girl standing with another man while wrapped in his coat. Y/N could read that expression so she quickly introduced the two of them to each other.

"Harry, this is Jack, my boss. Jack, my fiancé, Harry."

The two men shook hands, but oddly didn't exchange a single word, not even a 'hello'. They just stared at each other and would definitely continue to do so if Y/N didn't break the awkward silence.

"Thank you for this," she said, handing Jack back his coat. "And for the chocolate. Have a good night."

"You too, Y/N. See you tomorrow."

Jack waved his hand and watched the girl hold onto Harry's as they walked to his car, smiling at each other, being so in love like an engaged couple should be. Harry gave her a kiss on the forehead and asked how her day had been and if she was tired, to which she answered by saying she'd had an interesting day and was not tired anymore now that she saw him. Neither of them paid attention to Jack enough to wonder what was really on his mind, but he did leave very quickly, as soon as Harry opened the car door for Y/N, he was already driving away.

Harry, being Harry, kept asking Y/N about Jack on the drive back home. He wasn't being mean about it, he was just curious and a bit uneasy because, why on earth would a decent man gives an engaged woman chocolate on Valentine's Day?!

"That bloke is into you, I know it!" Harry snorted as he held the door for her to enter their building. "I'm gonna eat all of his chocolate!"

"That's a very big box, H." She laughed, shaking her head, but he didn't seem to mind.

"I don't care if I get diabetes, not gonna let you eat another man's affection."

Y/N cracked up when he tickled her side then wrapped his arms around her waist to pull her close to his chest. They walked past the front desk, cheerfully saying hello to their doorman Nam before heading straight to the lift, but Y/N's eyes were quick to spot the huge bouquet of roses in front of Nam. She stopped and came back to him immediately, pulling Harry alongside her.

"Well, well, well, I wonder who these are from?" Y/N put her forefinger to her lips, pretending to not have an idea as she turned to look at Harry. "Any guesses, love?"

"Hmm, maybe they're from another friend of ours?" He knitted his eyebrows together, playing along as he gave Nam a fake look of doubt. "I could be wrong but..."

"Oh my God, you two are the most ridiculous couple ever!" Nam tossed his head back and laughed. "Yes, they're from Ben, happy?"

"Pretty sure you said you two weren't dating."

"We aren't," the doorman told Y/N, smiling from ear to ear. "Not yet, but..."

"Aww, we're very happy for you!" Y/N clasped her hands together, beaming brightly. Harry, on the other hand, was getting pretty impatient.

"Yes we are very very happy for you," he said then hugged Y/N from behind and kissed her cheek. "But I need some alone time with my girl now so excuse us, good night."

"Eww, leave, you two are gross!" Nam sticked out his tongue as he laughed, then watched the couple hurry their way to the lift, hand in hand, releasing a sigh. He did hope that he was gonna be happy as they were now, one day.

Y/N and Harry stumbled into their flat, without bothering to switch on the light. Harry had already made dinner in the kitchen but it was the last thing on their mind right now since their mouths were attached and he kicked the front door closed while holding her up with her legs wrapped around his waist, struggling to lock the door without dropping his girl or falling over.

Harry had no idea what'd gotten him so worked up, maybe he'd got provoked by seeing Y/N's good-looking boss giving her so much attention after spending the entire day with her, maybe his trip to the flea market and Rose's kissing booth brought back a lot of loving memories of him and Y/N when they were still flatmates. He didn't know why, all he knew was that he wanted to show her how much he loved her.

They ended up riding out their first orgasm before they could even reach their bed, sprawling across the floor with her ontop of him, chest to chest, clothes lying all over the place. It was wild. But after that, it was full love-making. He weny down on her, sending her to her second climax before diving into that all too familiar spot that left him grunting every single time he entered because he could never get used to how good she felt wrapped around him. This time he went slow, wanting to feel all of her and give her all of his. He'd lost count of how many times he'd told her he loves her, just mumbling the same three words against her lips until she cummed for the third time and he followed, giving her all he'd got. As he collapsed ontop of her, head buried in her neck with her body still keeping him warm, he repeated once again those three words, and Y/N thought she'd never get tired of hearing it, ever.

"I love you a lot too, you're the best thing that's ever happened to me," she told him with a tired smile, wiping away the beads of sweat running down his handsome face. "No matter how much I tell you I love you, please know I always love you more than that."

"Fuck...You made me the happiest man alive, love."

They shared another kiss, and when Y/N saw how Harry's eyelids started to flutter she burst into laughter. "Ey, don't fall asleep, we're still gonna eat the dinner you cooked for me!"

"Okay but stay here a few minutes more. I missed you today," he muttered, brushing his nose against her collarbone, pulling her closer, and Y/N couldn't say no to that.

They cuddled for a little while and then got off the bed to go clean up only to end up having sex again in the shower because, Harry's reason, it's Valentine's Day.

When they returned from the bathroom, he finally remembered what he'd thought about on his way to pick her up. When he saw Jack with her it completely slipped from his mind.

"Do you remember the bear I got you on our first Valentine's?" Harry asked, pressing his lips into a soft smile as he held her by the hips while sitting on the edge of the bed and she was standing in front of him, drying his hair with a towel.

"Before we got together?" The memories turned into a beam on her face. "Yeah, I still have it in that drawer over there. Why?"

"I just thought of it today, not sure if you know this yet, probably not, but have you ever discovered something odd about that bear?"

"No." She stopped and dropped the towel down on the bed so he could pull her onto his lap and have her sit with her arms wrapped around his neck, his around her waist. "Oh no, Harry, what are you hiding from me?"

With a cheeky smile on his face, he looked at the ceiling and said, "well, if you take off the ribbon around the bear's neck, you'll find a zipper."

"Wha—No way!" She laughed, mouth opened wide as she stared at him in shock. "You sneaky bastard!"

It didn't take no time for her to remove herself from his lap and rush to their closet to search for the stuffed animal. When she'd found it, she did as he'd said. And he wasn't kidding. There was a zipper hidden under the cute little bowtie. She furrowed her eyebrows at him, and he told her to go ahead and check what's inside.

"I should've known you wouldn't have just given me an ordinary bear!"

Harry gave her a shrug for he knew it was the truth. He'd always been so extra when it came to her, he'd nearly hired a freaking band for her birthday, for crying out loud!

Y/N pulled out a piece of paper from the bear's neck. She couldn't believe it'd been there for years and she didn't know about its existence until today. So she didn't hesitate to unfold it, and read the words out loud for both her and Harry to hear.

"Roses are red, violets are blue...I like you a lot..." she paused to look at him "...if only you knew."

"I was pretty cheesy back then." He pressed his lips together. But Y/N thought that was actually one of the sweetest things he'd ever done for her. "I took the risk, put that note inside the bear, thinking to myself if you found out I would confess to having feelings for you, but you never did."

"Why didn't you say anything?" She put the bear down on the table nearby, along with the note, to return and sit on his lap, holding his face between her hands. "How on earth would I know there was a freaking note hidden inside the bear? I'm not Sherlock Holmes!"

"Maybe a part of me didn't want you to see the note, I was still scared," he replied. "But the next morning when I saw you in the kitchen, you seemed pretty normal so I knew you didn't see it, and the other part of me got disappointed."

"Dumbass," she whispered, nose brushing against his. "We would've ended up together sooner, had you just hand me the note like a normal person!"

"If you want, we can tell our kids the bear story instead of how I actually confessed my feelings while being drunk off my ass."

Y/N laughed as she heard him, but then shook her head no. "I still prefer how it actually happened. The waiting was torturing, but it was worth it."

The Harry who'd written that note on Valentine's Day a few years ago never would've seen this day coming. They were getting married soon and were happier now than ever. So Harry guessed Y/N was right after all. All the bad and good things they'd gone through, it was all worth it.

#i wanted to include them planning for the wedding but since this is already too long i'm saving it for the next chapter #flatmate!harry #boyfriend!harry #bestfriend!harry #harry styles #harry styles angst #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles series #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fanfics #harry styles fanfictions

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imnotcameraready · 5 years

Text

chivalry is dead (14)

A/N: HUZZAH!!!! WE’RE BACK IN BUSINESS BABEY !!! oh my god, it is Finals Season over here and my last one is this thursday. sorry this is coming out so late! it was a difficult chapter to write, plus it was being written between studying s o .,.,..,

speaking of! update in My Life is that i’ve been spending this past semester studying in a different country. immediately after my next final, i’m going home! but that means i’m also packing, and have a (long as FUCK) flight back home, and then i have to unpack and its going to be busy seeing all my family — this bad boy isn’t going on haitus or anything, but it might be more than a week until the next update! just giving y’all a heads up :’) after that, once i reestablish a Routine back home, then updates will resume at the usual 4–5 days between chapters aslkdghasldfxkh

sorry for the long authors note, and thanks ! <3

WARNINGS: panic, crying, threats, mentions of violence, thoughts of violence/fighting, sword mention, past violence, torture mention — tbh, idk what else is in here? please let me know if there's anything i've missed!

Words: 5577

AO3 link!

MASTERPOST! <– look here!! for the longterm warnings!! including sympathetic Deceit and cursing/swearing!

chivalry taglist: @starlightvirgil @forrestwyrm @daflangstlairde @marshmallow-the-panda @askthesnake @k9cat @patromlogil @theobsessor1

general tag: @jemthebookworm

hope you enjoy!!!

Remy was being uncharacteristically quiet. Patton and Deceit could tell it was unusual, given the Bard’s conversation prompts garnered single word answers. “Mhm,” “No,” or “Yeah.” When the Artist asked where they were going, Remy only said “Emile’s place.”

Something must have happened. But they couldn’t figure out what.

They were walking through another indoor alleyways, roofed by a walking bridge, when Remy turned left and opened a door. It seemed he knew the ins and outs of this town easily, despite how much more detailed it’d become. And, as Deceit had noted earlier, it HAD become more detailed. Through the door was a set of stairs and up the stairs was a small garden courtyard, with a pastel pink door at the end with a sign denoting it as “Dr. Emile Picani, PsyD.”

“That’s incredibly professional, all things considered,” Deceit gestured to the placard.

“Ah, I think it’s to mark the building as a doctor’s office,” the Playwright said, nose scrunching, “I’ve never seen that before, though.”

“You haven’t?”

“Not on Emile’s door, no. We should look into researching the laws surrounding doctors’ offices.”

“Research?” Patton asked, “Wait, what do you research for?”

“For creating, Patty-cake. We don’t just invent how much blood is in the human body, the different types of swords, how refrigerators work. That’s all research,” the Playwright seemed so pleased with himself.

“Yeah, like we’re any good at it,” in contrast, the Artist was more dejected. “We aren’t good at researching, using references, anything realistic. That’s….”

“We don’t have to research anything, if we just memorize it all! Or if we just make stuff up!” the Bard bumped hips with the Artist and summoned his ukulele again, strumming the first few chords to ‘Your Welcome’ before Remy put his hand on the instrument.

“Stop,” his voice was so serious, “Look, uh. It’s pretty bad.”

They formed in a semi-circle around him, Remy’s hand on the door. He pushed his sunglasses up and rubbed his forehead.

“Emile called me in the middle of giving midday naps, so I haven’t had coffee in a hot sec, so sorry. But, like, okay,” he fixed his glasses and shot everyone a look, turning slow to get the whole semi-circle. “Logan’s a lil’ spooked. Emile’ll explain what happened. Just don’t be loud, a’ight?”

The group shared looks at each other, mostly confused, though Patton gave them all his patton-ted Dad glare.

“Well,” Patton said, turning to Remy with a final determined grimace, “Alrighty. Open sesame?”

Remy opened the door cautiously, peeking in himself before opening it wider and allowing everyone else entrance.

The first room was a sitting room, themed similarly to how Emile’s office with multiple cartoon-themed posters. There were some couches and chairs around a larger coffee table, a few other coffee tables between the seating. An assortment of magazines and children’s books were displayed on the main coffee table. There was a reception area to the left, with a sign in sticker list and a computer behind a desk, but with no receptionist and no patients.

Just Emile and Logan sitting on the main couch. While Emile was sitting upright on the left, hands calmly folded in his lap, Logan was sitting very il-Logan-ly. Slouched tiredly into the opposite corner, glasses folded in the hand he was using to rub his own face, legs kicked out. Patton’s brow furrowed, inspecting Logan’s positioning. He could almost smell the grief radiating off of him.

Virgil, the Child, and the Thief were nowhere to be found.

Emile looked upon hearing the door’s hinge. He offered a tired smile and motioned to the seating. “Hey, everyone’s here,” his voice was quite soft, despite Deceit and Patton’s preconceived notions about him.

“Joy,” Logan sounded tired, almost defeated.

Once the initial shock wore off, Patton rushed to his side, setting a hand on his shoulder and sinking down to kneel beside him.. Logan flinched away, and Patton lifted both hands again immediately. “Sorry! Sorry, kiddo,” he bit his lip for a second, then continued, “What happened?”

Logan shifted two fingers, flicking one eye at Patton. It was bloodshot, with the surrounding eyelid puffy red. He examined Patton’s expression, with his cheeks puffed up and brow pinched together, and closed his eyes again. He couldn’t keep looking at Patton’s face, not when he’d nearly watched Roman — not Roman, the Thief, die. Nearly. And then he’d let Virgil and the Child both get kidnapped. Plus this headache, the same one from the previous night, was throbbing in the back of his skull, only exacerbated by his crying.

Good Lord, he’d been crying. Another thing to tick off the figurative “New Things” list.

“Do you want me to tell them?” Emile spoke slow and soft.

Logan shrugged. Someone had to, and it wasn’t going to be him. “Thief could explain,” Emile suggested, still treading lightly.

His crossed arms seized closer, and Emile winced. Jinkies. Shouldn’t have brought up the Thief.

“Oh, he’d better,” the Bard hissed, a muddled anger laced through his voice.

He yelped when the Artist elbowed him in the side, shooting him a dark glare. Emile looked between them and stood up. “Yeah, you’d all — well, maybe just the Romans? Deceit and Patton can stay out here, and we’ll tell them together. How’s that sound, Logan?”

He made a bit of a choked sound in trying to answer. He couldn’t stop thinking about how he’d just stood there.

“Kiddo?”

He was so useless.

“Logan, buddy, move your hands.”

“No,” he hissed.

“Breathe with me,” he heard Emile again, to his side, “I’ll count again, okay?”

This was pathetic. No wonder none of them listened to him. Dealing with plentitudes of positive emotions were hard, he couldn’t have imagined — oh, now was he imagining things?

These overly-abundant negative emotions were increasing such that he could feel a spike in his brain’s norepinephrine levels, which was silly in and of itself because he didn’t even have a physical brain for these hormones to spike within.

Patton tapped Logan’s elbow again, gently holding his forearms as Logan’s hand squeezed his face even tighter.

“Well, isn’t this dandy?” the Bard’s voice was a little too loud as he ran his hand through his hair, mussing it up before smoothing it back once more.” We broke Professor Glum. Where’s Thief?”

“Hey,” Patton said, shooting him a Dad glare. “Zip it, lock it, and put it in your pocket.”

The Playwright sank down beside Logan, on the opposite side of Patton. He hadn’t taken his eyes off of Logan since they entered.

The Bard backed up with a scoff. Clearly something was wrong! And Logan didn’t want to tell them! His stomach lurched with nervousness; they’d never seen Logan so rattled. If the Thief were here, he’d tell them what they did wrong. Plus, the Bard missed him, regretted their fight.

“Logan, dear, it’s okay,” the Playwright said, watching him shift uncomfortably, “How about Bard, Artist, and I go talk to Thief. It has been a dramatic few days and being reminded of my….of Roman’s fragmented state can’t be helpful in stabilizing you.”

“Ditto,” the Artist mumbled, still tugging at the strings of his hoodie from where he stood, just barely inside the doorway. The Bard nodded, too, eyes still pointed away.

Roman hated being so useless, and something in their chests told them that it was partly his fault.

Emile looked between each of them, then at Patton and Deceit. Remy must have left unannounced; that was okay. Emile would probably hunker down in his office after this to watch a movie. Maybe “Lilo and Stitch.” He needed something feel-good after this. Maybe some of the other characters would even join. That’d be nice.

What he NEEDED to do was diffuse the tension in here! Wouldn’t want them all stewing in this mystery for too long. Emile cleared his throat and stood up.

“How about we split up, gang? I’ll take the Romans all back to talk to Thief, and Deceit and Patton can stay here with Logan?” Emile looked up at Patton, then at Deceit, with a tiny smile waiting for verification.

Deceit met his look with a small nod. “I agree. It would be best for us to talk to Logan alone.”

“It’s been a long day,” the Artist voiced their collective thoughts, “We do need a breather.”

“That it has,” Logan said, clearing his throat and coughing a little. He lowered his hands into his lap and released a smidge of the tension in his shoulders, looking at Emile directly. “I….I agree with Dr. Picani. It would be more manageable to talk to fewer faces.”

“Well, then, alrighty,” Emile stood up, cracking his back as he did so, “Let’s blow this popsicle stand an’ head to Thief.”

He led the three Romans away, all of whom went quiet and guiltily. Patton and Deceit could hear Emile’s voice trailing off into gentle warnings about “he’s fine now, but just go easy on him, ‘cause it probably hurts, oh, what is ‘it,’ uh.”

Deceit waited until the door closed after them to let out an exhausted huff.

That’s what this was. Exhausting.

“C’mon, sit down,” Patton said, motioning to Logan’s other side on the couch, “Everyone else is gone. Think you can tell us what happened, teach?”

Logan exhaled. He could do that. It should be easy. Emphasis on should, because nothing about this, about reassembling Roman like a Lego set without instructions, was easy. Nothing about sword fighting was easy, either.

Still, a process of facts would be easier for Logan to convey, which he did. He explained how he and Virgil had chased the Child and the Thief into an alley, how they’d encountered the Dragon, and how there’d been a fight. How it ended with Virgil and the Child being taken by the Dragon.

He also added, almost as an afterthought or almost betraying how much he didn’t want to be thinking about it, that the Thief had gotten a 27.65 centimeter gash across his chest, 6.43 centimeters at its deepest and deep enough to cut through part of his bone. Patton looked like he was going to faint, face paling at the image, and Logan jumped in to clarify.

“It required magic to connect the bone back together, but it’s been handled thoroughly enough and Thief will heal fine. No vital organs were damaged, and he is currently laying on Dr. Picani’s other couch to regain the blood he lost,” he explained, now taking Patton’s hand into his own and squeezing. “He will heal fine.”

“I don’t doubt that, but, still….” Patton squeezed Logan’s hand, too, and then took his other. He held both of Logan’s hands in his own and pulled them close together, giving them small, reassuring squeezes. “I’m sorry you had to see that. It sounds horrible.”

Ah. Yes. Logan pursed his lips again and swallowed. No, he wouldn’t cry again. Not right now. “Thank you, Patton, but I’m handling this.”

Deceit cleared his throat, and the two looked up. He was scowling, eyes not distinctly watching anything, definitely not watching them, hair falling out of his hat again, definitely not distraught. It seemed that the bycocket fit worse than his bowler.

“Just to clarify,” he said, and they both could hear that he was holding some thoughts back, “Virgil and Child are with Dragon.”

Logan pressed his mouth into a tight line.

Of course Deceit would focus on that fact. He didn’t know what he had expected from Deceit. Sympathy? Unrealistic. This Imaginative excursion was turning him sentimental. Wanting things he would, should never receive.

“Yes,” he hated how tight his voice sounded.

Deceit nodded slowly. He was still trying to process Logan’s story, and how he appeared. Patton and Logan had been working together for a much longer time than himself; he had never seen Logan so distressed. The typical emotionless facade was gone. It was unnerving, almost. Like, he knew that the whole “emotionless” thing was a big lie but seeing the lie revealed was very different from just hoping.

He wanted to lean down, kneel down. Use his gloves to wipe away the logical side’s tears. Promise that everything would be okay. That they would retrieve Virgil and Roman and that all would be well.

Woah, there, Deceit. One lie at a time, or you’re going to start tripping over yourself. You know you aren’t allowed to do that.

Patton, however, drew Logan’s attention once more, tapping him on the arm. He held his arms out in front of Logan’s chest, as an offer.

“Hey, kiddo,” he said, voice soft, “Can I hug you?”

Logan blinked, slow. He wasn’t much for hugging, but physical comforting would probably aid him in lowering his pulse. And….Patton. After a long pause, Logan said “Yes.”

He leaned back on the couch, letting out a slow exhale and closing his eyes, letting Patton wrap his arms around his shoulders. If only he could sleep. That would benefit him greatly. They should have asked Remy to knock him unconscious before he left. He was less overwhelmed and more exhausted by the adrenaline and intense emotions he’d been wracked with. He began counting beats in his head, using Virgil’s breathing technique to slow his own oxygen intake.

Patton let Logan snuggle into his shoulder, trying to exude as much positivity as he could. This whole situation was like a swirling toilet flush, all his prior excitement about entering the Imagination going down the drain. He just wanted to make sure Logan was alright.

That all of them were gonna get out of this alright.

“You know, I kinda wish we had a different first quest into the Imagination. This’ all a lot more, er,” what was the right word? “High-stakes. Than I’d’ve wanted it to be.” That wasn’t the right right word, but it was close enough.

He was worried that pointing out the seriousness of the quest would garner some sort of negative reaction, but Logan just nodded. In truth, they were all in agreement. It would have been easier to understand Roman had they understood the Imagination more, or if he’d just communicated how he felt.

But well, Deceit was the only one bitterly remembering that none of them were adept at swallowing their pride. Including himself.

“It’s too serious,” Patton continued, “I don’t want anyone getting hurt in here.”

“People have already been hurt, Patton,” Logan reminded him, voice lacking any bite.

And people would always be hurt, and there had to be something Deceit could do about that. The “best” thing to do would be to wait for the night. But what if something happened between now and then? Deceit couldn’t get the image that the Thief had described out of his mind.

What would happen? Would the Dragon really dismember — he couldn’t think of that. No, Deceit had to protect them.

It was a matter of pure self-preservation. That’s all.

Without warning, Deceit stood up, causing Logan and Patton to jump. He strode to the door and exited.

Logan and Patton watched the door for a few seconds before realizing what had happened. Logan was the first one up, Deceit’s name halfway off his lips as he swung open the door. “Where are you going?” he asked, following.

“To get Virgil. Simple,” it was really not simple, not in the slightest.

“That….is a horrible idea. Nor is it simple,” Logan wanted to scream, because he frankly regarded Deceit as one of his more coherent cohorts, less eccentric than Roman or Patton and more cohesive than Virgil. But this is a level of sacrificial that he didn’t anticipate the typically cautious and selfish Side could reach.

And, still, Deceit continued walking. He stopped at the top of the stairwell and took a deep breath.

“It is a simple idea. I’m going to be in and out, and,” if he didn’t confuse Logan further then he’d probably follow, and Deceit wouldn’t dare put any more of his... “If I die, I die.”

Logan spluttered. That didn’t make any sense.

Deceit tried to escape, but was suddenly caught up in a pair of arms. Patton hugged him tight, pulling him back from the stairs. Less restraining him and more hugging him stationarily.

“Dee,” his voice was more desperate, “You can’t just go—”

“No one else seems to be acting with any urgency!” Deceit didn’t struggle in the hug, he didn’t want to hurt Patton or anything, but it was quite the annoyance. “Don’t you both understand? We’ve been thoroughly warned that Dragon is dangerous, and now we’re just going to leave Virgil with them to get tortured?”

Maybe the Dragon wouldn’t hurt Virgil, but Deceit wasn’t going to leave that to chance. His carelessness had led to Roman being literally shattered by insecurity as well.

Gosh, he had really failed them.

No, not failed. He hadn’t failed. Deceit didn’t fail, it wasn’t a thing he was allowed to do. He was simply going through a difficult disguise.

And now he was going to make things better, and then he was going to slink back into the dark corners of Thomas’ mind where he so thrived, would go back to watching the other Sides with a yearning he chose to ignore.

“Of COURSE we do not want Virgil to be hurt,” Logan’s voice wasn’t offended, definitely not, not the least bit hurt by Deceit’s assumption, “But we cannot enter without a plan, either, and you cannot traverse the Imagination alone!”

“I can and I will, let go of me,” the second part was directed back at Patton as Deceit lowered a hand onto his arms and shoved.

His grip was iron, though. The thoughts racing through Patton’s mind were like darts, trying to figure out the perfect bullseye explanation of what was nagging at his mind. Because, before they came into the Imagination, everything was a little more carefree. A little different. Oh, what was that?

“No. I–I, oh, hang on,” he grumbled into Deceit’s shoulder, holding him down and trying to word his emotions. Patton’s emotions, everyone’s emotions. Everyone was a little less wound up outside. But in here, it felt like everything was almost too dramatic! Between all the screaming and yelling, and all the swear words, goodness he stopped keeping track for the swear jar because there were so many. Like, 60 so far.

That was definitely bending the morals Patton liked upholding, of keeping things PG-13 and kid-friendly. What was wrong with him? What was wrong with all of THEM?

“Patton,” Deceit’s voice grumbled, bringing him back from his thoughts. “Are you planning to elaborate? Because, if not, then let me go.”

He sure was! If he could figure out how to make words work.

Patton made a drawn-out “eh” sound, waving his hands back and forth as he tried to word it. “I think — and Logan can DEFINITELY back me up on this — it’s safer, is more logical, hurts less people, will hurt you less, will make me not cry, will make Virgil not angry, will make, uh….” he counted in his head, frowning against Deceit’s back, “Will make five out of seven Romans happier, if you wait for all of us to make a plan together.”

Logan hummed in approval with Patton’s statement, and Deceit squinted at them both

He couldn’t deny that Patton had a point. As the anger wore off, it was replaced with a frozen pit in Deceit’s stomach, chilling him to the bones with worry and a vague understanding. He wasn’t usually this worried.

Perhaps it was due to Virgil’s absence. Virgil was the mediator of their worries.

Or maybe it was something else.

But even if it were something else, Deceit didn’t want to risk Virgil getting hurt. It wasn’t as though Virgil had never been hurt before. Deceit wasn’t malicious, but he certainly wasn’t doctile, and neither were either of the other concealed Sides. There were reasons he had to keep the veiled, after all. None of them were walks in the park.

But this was a true villain, without the inhibitions of keeping Thomas running, in a world Roman had created to hurt himself.

….Deceit’s arms felt a little tingly in Patton’s grip. Was that typical of hugs? He had felt a little sore after the Bard that morning, too, but had chalked that up to it being an unusually long hug.

You know, maybe hugs just weren’t his thing. It didn’t have anything to do with him not being hugged enough. And he wasn’t going to indulge that thought further. He wasn’t going to indulge himself.

“I think,” Patton’s voice cut into Deceit’s thought process again, softer now than earlier, “We’re all in a bad mindset.”

“Clearly. These circumstances are nothing like nothing within the reality that Thomas would have to face, and are nothing I have ever prepared for,” Logan responded, voice more level.

“....You’re just gonna say that?” Patton sounded incredulous.

Deceit scowled, looking down from them, up at the walls, as Logan clarified that he was thoroughly prepared for every possible real-world scenario but wasn’t prepared for the “imaginative nonsense” that Roman’s world wrought.

Patton was right, Deceit realized, far too right. They were simply in a bad mindspace.

“I don’t want to pursue Virgil alone, but I refuse to let him stay with Dragon for any longer,” he stated, cutting off whatever tirade Logan had continued onto. “Patton, can you let go? I won’t run.”

Both of them blinked at him, and Patton slowly released his extended hug. They had been serious, earlier, about accompanying him. But the more Logan considered the consequences of splitting up the team, the more he was wary.

“I don’t think it would be wise for any of us to go without formulating a plan,” he said, holding a hand out to Deceit.

“Well, I’m not just leaving him. I can’t,” and Deceit then raised a hand to his own mouth, cursing himself behind his hand.

Master of secrecy he was. Hopefully the other two wouldn’t—

“What do you mean, can’t.” Oof.

Deceit exhaled, shaking out his hand as he drew it away from his face, thinking of a cover-story. One came quick enough. “Wouldn’t it be dreadful if Thomas’ Anxiety was killed by his Ego?”

That would throw off the scent and puts the situation in a different light. But it just made Deceit feel worse.

It was stupid. He should have been consoling the others. HE didn’t need it.

Patton and Logan shared a glance. They both didn’t want Virgil to be hurt — alright, let’s stop beating around the bush here, they both love Virgil. Patton says it about ten times a day, and he’d swear off cookies if he were wrong about Logan loving Virgil, too! And they love Thomas. They don’t want Virgil getting hurt already, but they also don’t want Thomas getting hurt.

Logan nodded slightly toward Deceit, one of his eyebrows twitching up barely.

It was a subtle expression, much too subtle for Patton to interpret, but he could definitely tell that Logan was asking something. Patton just shrugged.

That didn’t seem to matter, as Logan nodded curtly and looked up to Deceit with a steady expression.

“Yes, but even you must admit that there are no preservation benefits to you going to rescue him alone. Plus, if we are staging a rescue, we should aim to retrieve Child and Damsel as well.”

“I–” he had forgotten that there were two others trapped. Now he was sheepish. A foolish oversight. “You’re right. We should. All the more reasons to go now.”

Logan shook his head. “You might have a sword, but Patton and I are unarmed and likely would not fight.”

“Oh, well, um, teach?” Logan and Deceit both looked at Patton, who was grinning sheepishly, “Sorry, but your Pop’s ready to pop off on Dragon. He’s been pretty bad, and bad Sides get grounded.”

Deceit snorted, but pressed his lips together harshly. The concept of Patton grounding someone, figuratively and literally, was ridiculous.

Though he would pay real money to see the moral side knock someone out.

Oh gosh, that was an actual possibility in the Imagination. Deceit might be granted the opportunity of watching Patton kick the daylights out of someone. That pleased him way more than he’d like to admit.

Meanwhile, Logan just frowned. “Excuse me, you are going to unleash a confetti popper on Dragon? Why would you use a celebratory cracker as a weapon, in a world where weapons are readily available to us?”

Now it was Patton’s turn to facepalm himself, rubbing his own forehead. “Ah, sorry! Pop off’s another one of those modern slang terms the kids’re using these days, maybe a good one for the notecards?”

Logan nodded, conjuring his set of notecards and taking notes as Patton explained. “It’s when you’ve got a lot of stuff bottled up inside of you, usually some kinda anger, and then something upsets you enough for that figurative bottle to open. Like a cap popping off? I think that’s the entropy.”

“The….etymology?”

“The entomology!”

“Getting closer. Etymology.”

Patton grinned a little and shrugged again. “That.”

“I see,” Logan fixed his glasses, “Also, to ‘pop off’ can also be defined as engaging in a physical altercation?”

“In some cases!”

“Mmm.”

Logan slipped the notecards away again and clapped once. “Well. Thank you for that, Patton,” he turned to Deceit, who’d been watching and listening with a vacantly fond expression, and motioned to him with both of his hands, “Returning to the original subject matter, Patton and I are still unarmed, and would not be of service while you storm a literal castle. If we want to guarantee Virgil, Child, and Damsel’s safety, then we need to outline a plan.”

“Oh, so just because you took a little vocabulary learning break, we’re ignoring the high-stakes of everyone being in peril?” Deceit asked, fixing his hat and forcing himself back into a scowl, “You’ve got no sense of urgency and we can’t have that out in a duel.”

“Do you?” Logan crossed his arms. This debate was actually helping him feel better about their future prospects. “Having a sense of urgency is Virgil’s job. Ours, together, is to concoct a longer but more cohesive plan.”

Logan’s voice is, as always, too level. He’s much too aware for his own good, Deceit thought, and his own frustration returned tenfold.

“Virgil isn’t here to do that job, so I’m taking it up!” he gestured to himself with his thumb, but stopped midway through the motion. He’s just as flippant and it’s proving Logan’s point. Slowly, he drew his hands back to his chest and exhaled sharply, saying with fervor “We must get him back.”

Patton’s head turns back to Logan when he lets out his own frustrated exhalation. There was something here. He was on to something, but Patton just couldn’t figure out the pieces. Meanwhile, Logan and Deceit’s argument continued before him.

“If you’re so concerned about preserving all of us, as a group, for the betterment of Thomas, then why are you going to such lengths to put yourself in a position of unsafety to save another Side? I don’t understand.”

“Because we can’t let him get hurt, isn’t that obvious?”

“I agree, but I want to hear your explanation. Why not?” Logan asked.

It was a simple question, but it struck a chord much deeper in Deceit than it should have. It almost made him feel ashamed at how angry he was.

He HADN’T failed.

“I’ll die before I let Virgil be hurt again,” his voice came out as more hiss than enunciation. “Any of you.”

Deceit’s declaration hung in the air for a second before he realized what he said. You could almost pinpoint the moment he realized he’d said too much, as he turned back around to the stairs, if only to face away from the pair.

“Oh?”

Please, please don’t bring it up. Deceit considered possible alternative stories. Some kind of lie about the other Dark Sides, perhaps? Logan and Patton weren’t as familiar with them as he was, he could definitely make something up about how they interacted, something about their hostility.

“Deceit?”

“Deceit,” one of them grabbed his arm, likely Patton, “Hey, kiddo, you’re okay.”

Curse his pride. Deceit wanted to tear his arm out of whoever was holding him’s grip because the burning indignity of his confession was making the weird feeling return in full force.

He wanted to grip his cloak and hide his hands again, so they couldn’t see them shake. Why were his hands shaking, anyway? He didn’t have anything to hide. Why would he hide?

Patton swallowed. ‘Any’ of you. Deceit was an actor, same as Roman, so Patton always had a hard time figuring out what to make of him. So this was a hunch. Just a hunch.

Just a hunch and a little hope.

“I don’t,” he looked at Logan, who was frowning at Deceit as one would an unsolvable puzzle, “I don’t understand.”

That was okay. “It’s a hard thing to understand,” Patton found himself responding, grin growing, “Love’s a queer thing.”

Deceit groaned. Logan rolled his eyes, though his cheeks tinged pink. None of the tension was lifted.

“That’s absurd,” he murmured, talking about the pun.

“Is it?” Patton whispered, talking about something more.

That drew both of their attentions back to him, with confused, expressions wrapped in a special kind of denial.

Was he strong enough to admit it? It was funny, in the same way that adultery or the puppets were, because Patton wasn’t known for admitting things.

Baby steps. He couldn’t scare himself or either of the other two away.

“Deceit,” he said, looking at the other with a firm expression as Deceit turned over his shoulder, “Once we’re, uh, out of the Imagination….d’ya think it’d be okay if we moved your bedroom to the Mind Palace? With the rest of us?”

Forward, but careful. Deceit blinked, leaning back only a little, only in surprise.

How tender a way for Patton to invite him into their lives.

He stepped back around, expression guarded.

Logan looked up from Patton to Deceit, less guarded and more stepping back. This was curious indeed. That tightness in his chest returned. He didn’t quite understand what Patton’s offer meant — of course, it would be beneficial for Deceit to have a room in their Mind Palace, so he could be central in conversations if he was choosing to become more prevalent in Thomas’ decisionmaking. There must have been another reason behind it, however, because his pulse was quickening once more. His fists closed at his sides and he could feel how sweaty his palms were. Was he nervous? For what?

You know what, maybe Logan was just allergic to the Imagination. That’s why his hormones were being regularly imbalanced and causing visceral physical reactions to emotional stimuli.

Patton smiled a tiny bit more, and offered his hand to Deceit. “I think,” he started again, gentle as ever, “Roman would take it personally if we left without him. ‘Cause he’s worried about Virgil, too.”

Deceit looked at his hand, then up at Patton.

Inclusion. Teamwork, like he’d preached earlier.

He wasn’t ready to admit what he truly wanted. Deceit wasn’t personally selfish. But he could….he would allow himself to indulge in the thought of wanting to be wanted.

He took Patton’s hand, and Patton pulled him a little closer.

“Fine.”

Patton smiled.

“Hey!” the trio turned back to the door to see the Artist poking his head out, “Where’re you guys going?”

“Nowhere!” Patton chirped back, waving his other hand, “We just wanted some fresh air!”

Logan and Deceit shared another look. It was best to keep this agreement to themselves, for now. They wouldn’t want to overwhelm any of the others.

“Okay, uh. Well,” the Artist jogged out to join them.

His hood was pulled over his head, tugged into a small opening where only his face was visible. He looked around at Patton, then Deceit, then Logan, and nudged Logan slightly with his elbow. “I never got to say, um. I’m sorry. For getting mad at you this morning.”

That felt like so long ago, and so much had happened since then, Logan had almost forgotten that it was all the same day. He nodded slowly. “Of course. While it was an unconventional and fairly belligerent method of relaying your discomfort, I understand why you reacted in such a way.”

He opened his mouth to continue, but then closed it again and clenched his jaw tight as the headache came back once more. What WAS that? Logan waited for it to dull back once more before continuing, “I will avoid making similar observations in the future.”

“Uh, thanks,” the Artist watched him with worry for a few seconds before looking around the trio again and stuffing his hands further into his pockets, “Should we go inside? We need to outline what we’re gonna do.”

“Awh, outline? ‘Cause you’re an artist?” Patton asked, his usual cheeky grin returning, “I’m proud of that one!”

The Artist rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, whatever, Pop Rocks. Let’s just get inside. Bard and Thief miss you guys.”

He turned away, leading them back to normalcy with a slight new understanding of each other.

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