#I told myself this would just be a doodle and I got slightly carried away but it’s fine they’re cute

[emmaspolaroid]

noremma week: day one (free day)

sleepy beepies

[thevoidfishsminstrel]

Lena let out an undignified squeak as she grabbed hold of the bookshelf beside her in an effort to not land on her face.

“I’m so sorry! Are you okay?”

Lena turned, wiggling her foot back into her heels properly, before freezing, eyes widening at the caped figure now scrambling to her feet.

An array of books and magazines were spread out on the floor, presumably the culprit of her latest near death experience. It was as though National City’s newly revealed superhero had been sitting in between the bookshelves on the library floor… studying?

Lena clutched the cheesy romance novel she had been too busy reading to her chest as Supergirl looked at her in concern.

“Miss?”

Lena’s brain finally restarted and she cleared her throat, straightening her blazer. “Yes. I’m fine. Thank you.”

“You’re sure you’re not hurt?” Supergirl was wringing the edge of her cape in her fingers, looking far too nervous for someone who was suspected to be the strongest being on Earth by several sapphic blogs that Lena most definitely did not read.

“I’m fine.” She reached out to put a hand on Supergirl’s forearm in an impulse comfort gesture. “I promise.”

Supergirl seemed to relax slightly, some of the tension seeping from her shoulders. She held out a hand. “I’m Kara.”

Any tension that had left her immediately returned tenfold, eyes widening in panic as she froze.

Lena bit back a smile and took Kara’s hand, shaking it despite Kara’s lack of movement. “Lena. And don’t worry - your secret’s safe with me.”

Kara deflated, running a hand through her hair. “Alex is going to kill me.”

Lena laughed and patted Kara’s bicep (definitely the strongest being on Earth). “Maybe you should stop saying names now.”

Kara grimaced. “Oops.” She looked like she was about to say something else but stopped and looked at Lena again. “Wait… are you Lena Luthor?”

Lena straightened up, careful mask falling into place to try to hide the way her heart sped up and her throat constricted. “Yes.”

But before she could launch into her speech about how she was different from the rest of her family and only wanted to help, Kara lit up, crouching down to shuffle through her piles of literature until she came up with an issue of a science magazine from a few years ago.

“I just read your article about sustainable building and how we can introduce cost-effective eco-friendly measures to construction to reduce the damage done to the environment and promote a symbiotic relationship with nature.”

Lena blinked.

Kara almost poked herself in the eye before redirecting the movement to brush a strand of hair behind her ear. “Sorry, I just thought it was really interesting. You’re probably tired of people asking you about your work.”

Lena’s eyebrows rose. “No I… I don’t mind.”

Kara smiled and Lena found her heart racing for an entirely different reason. She redirected her attention to the books scattered on the floor.

“So what’s National City’s resident superhero doing studying civil engineering, first aid and… veterinary science on the floor of the library?”

Kara blushed and knelt down to start scooping up all her things. “Sorry - I know I should have been at a desk I just got carried away.”

The pile of books was up to Kara’s eyebrows when she stood up and Lena laughed, taking the top third of them from her. “And I shouldn’t have been reading and walking. But that doesn’t answer my question.”

Supergirl shrugged, toeing at the worn carpet with her red boots. “I’m new at the whole superhero thing. I don’t know where to freeze breath a building to hold it up or how to save someone who’s got water in their lungs from almost drowning. The other day I rescued a snake from a tree and tried to wrap it up in my cape to keep it warm and the owner told me ‘thanks, but reptiles are cold-blooded so they don’t warm up like that.’” She pouted at Lena. “The owner was a ten year old.”

Lena bit back a smile. “So you’re trying to learn how to be a better superhero?”

She shrugged and bit her lip. “I just don’t want to mess up.”

Lena considered her for a moment. “You know, I happen to have degrees in a few different kinds of engineering. And I made everyone at L-corp, including myself, take a first aid course when I took over.”

Kara looked as though she was trying to contain her hopeful expression. It wasn’t working very well, although that probably wasn’t surprising since her motto was ‘hope, help, and compassion for all.’

Kara bounced on her toes excitedly. “Would you help?”

Lena grinned and gestured to the left with her head. “Come on, I know which desk is the best in the library.”

———

It became somewhat of a routine after that. Every Saturday, Lena would go to the library as normal, pick out a new cheesy romance novel for the week and some kind of thick science book to hide it underneath, and then meet Supergirl in the back corner of the library, at the desk hidden behind the spare computers from the 90s where no one would find them.

Kara would normally already be there, pouring over texts and making notes in coloured pens and highlighters. Lena had bought her a rainbow of folders and dividers for each of the aspects of superheroing she was trying to improve in, and they had spent one very unproductive but fun day labelling and decorating them. They were now covered in random doodles, squiggly multicoloured patterns, and stickers that Kara had found in a rotating rack by the front desk, immediately claiming were essential for her learning.

During the week, Lena would keep an eye on any news of Supergirl, getting some strange looks from Jess when she walked into her office to see Lena cheering as Kara did something they’d worked on together. At the weekend she would listen to Kara excitedly retell those same events until the librarian came over to shush them. She seemed to be the only person in National city that wasn’t completely charmed by Supergirl, and it always led to half an hour of Kara pouting and asking Lena why the librarian didn’t like her.

It was a few weeks before Lena got there first. She frowned, checking the surrounding isles of books for any caped figures but they were all empty as usual.

She sat at their desk and opened up the book she had randomly grabbed off a shelf, putting her latest romance novel inside it to covertly read. It was called ‘Lost and Found: A Love Story’, the back of it claiming it was about a woman who ‘drops her scarf at a train station but ends up finding something much more meaningful in the woman she bumps into at the lost and found.’ It was exactly as awful as it sounded.

Kara bounded up to the table about 20 minutes later, a coffee cup in each hand and a satchel slung over her shoulder that made her cape bunch up awkwardly. She beamed at Lena and set a coffee down in front of her.

“Guess what I just did.”

Lena slammed the books shut inside each other, scrambling to put her arms over them and rest her chin in her hand casually. “What?”

Kara either didn’t notice or didn’t care, rounding the desk and putting her bag down on it with a grin. “I laservisioned the supports of a broken crane back together using some metal from a billboard and now it’s totally fine for use again.”

Lena’s eyebrows rose. “What happened to the crane in the first place?”

Kara’s cheeks heated and she looked away, rubbing the back of her neck as she mumbled, “I may have flown into it a little bit.”

She scowled at Lena as Lena started laughing but it was undermined by the way her lips tugged up.

“Oh!” Kara lit up and started rifling through her bag. “I brought you this.”

She held out a book with a bright smile. Lena’s eyes widened as she looked down at the cover of what was very clearly another cheesy romance.

“It’s my favourite love story. It’s a bit like the one you’re reading at the moment but better, in my opinion. I thought you might like it.”

“What?” Lena scoffed. “I wasn’t reading a romance. I was reading…” she glanced over to check what book she had picked up, internally filling with regret as she read the title, but she had already committed to the facade. “The rhyming dictionary.”

Kara was very clearly trying not to laugh. “Ok. Well I’ll just leave this one here. And in case you didn’t know,” she leaned closer to Lena’s ear as she climbed into her seat, and whispered, “I have x-ray vision.”

Lena blushed, refusing to look at Kara’s smug grin. She cleared her throat and moved her books off to the side, along with the one Kara had put down, as casually as possible, and attempted to change the subject.

“So you remembered about weight distribution in support structures?”

Kara paused in taking folders and notes out her bag to turn to Lena excitedly, rambling on about her save, gesturing wildly with her hands.

Lena picked up her coffee as she listened with a soft smile, absentmindedly taking a sip.

She frowned down at the cup. “Is this my usual?”

Kara paused in her rambling. “Yeah. Does it not taste right?”

Lena shook her head, staring back down at her perfect coffee, cheeks heating at the heart drawn in latte art that Kara probably didn’t even have anything to do with. “No I just… I didn’t know you knew my order.”

Kara grinned, raising an eyebrow (Lena should never have taught her how to do that). “Perhaps you’re not as elusive as you think, Lena Luthor.”

———

Lena arrived at the library one Saturday to find Supergirl staring at the front doors like she might set light to them any moment.

“What’s wrong Supergirl? Lose a fight with a door handle?”

Kara turned to her with a pout, pointing at a sign hanging on the other side of the glass. It read ‘Library closed until 23rd due to water damage. Apologies for the inconvenience.’

Lena sighed.

“Where am I going to get my books for this week, Lena? I’m never going to understand civil engineering without them.”

Lena bit the inside of her cheek, the rational part of her brain at war with the part that was helpless to the superhero’s pout. It had to be one of her superpowers because Lena would never admit she was actually soft.

She tore her gaze away, trying to seem casual. “I actually have some engineering textbooks at my apartment. I guess you could borrow them if you wanted.”

Lena squeaked as Supergirl crushed her in a bear hug, lifting her a few inches off the ground. “Thank you thank you thank you!”

Lena laughed, trying to turn it inconspicuously into a cough when a passerby gave a slightly shocked and confused look at the sight of a Luthor and a Super laughing on the library steps. Kara dropped her back to her feet, stepping back with a sheepish smile.

“Sorry, I got excited.”

Lena shook her head with a smile. She turned to go but as she went to gesture for Kara to follow, her hand caught against Kara’s. Her brain misfired and decided in the split second where her index finger hooked onto Kara’s pinkie that the best course of action was to commit to it and simply hold hands. In an attempt to make it seem less affectionate and more practical, she walked off quickly, dragging Kara along in the direction of her apartment.

She could feel Kara’s smile like rays of sun behind her. At least her hair was down to cover up the heat that was creeping up the back of her neck.

Her apartment was only a few minutes from the library. She had to slap Kara’s hand away from the elevator buttons before she pressed them all, marveling at how many floors there were.

“So this is where you live?” Kara looked around the hallway, panicking when she snapped a leaf off of a decorative plant, while Lena unlocked the penthouse door.

Lena pretended not to see her discreetly dropping the leaf into the plant pot but raised an eyebrow at her. “No, Supergirl. I just decided we should come and stare at this random person’s door.”

Kara ignored her, walking past into her apartment and looking down at the city below through the large floor to ceiling windows. “Nice view. I should take you flying sometime - it’s even better from up in the clouds, especially at night.”

Lena closed the front door, trying not to think about romantic flights and being cradled in strong arms. “I’ll go get the textbooks.”

She moved towards her home office, Kara trailing behind in interest. The engineering textbooks were over in the left corner and she scanned the alphabetised section for the ones she wanted.

Kara ran her fingers over the spines of books until Lena was done. She smirked at Lena, letting her hand trail teasingly down the bookshelf before she left. Lena blushed as she realised why. Kara had found her fiction section, over half the books in which were very clearly a certain genre.

Lena groaned and followed her out.

They spent the entire afternoon on the floor around Lena’s coffee table, going through the textbooks, laughing over Kara’s constant puns, and eating the seemingly endless supply of snacks Kara produced from her bag. It wasn’t until the sun had started to set that Lena realised how long they’d spent simply telling jokes and stories.

It was alarmingly easy to just be around Kara. Strangely, Lena didn’t think she minded.

———

Lena frowned as someone knocked on her door. It was a Saturday morning and she was just about to leave to meet Supergirl at the library.

She only grew more confused as she opened the door to see a fluffy white cloud panting happily at her and squirming in her direction. A head poked out from behind it, looking just as happy.

“Lena, hi! Sorry to just turn up but the mean librarian lady threw me out because apparently you aren’t allowed to play fetch in the library.”

Lena stared at the woman currently holding a large puppy in front of her, familiar blonde curls pinned back and glasses slipping down her nose. “…Kara?”

Kara blinked at her for a moment before she seemed to realise. “Oh! Right. Sorry - this is what I look like normally. When I’m not being Supergirl I mean. Alex said I wasn’t allowed to wear the suit all the time because it had to be washed.”

Lena nodded slowly, trying to reconcile the image of this Kara with Supergirl and to not think too hard about the implications of Kara being comfortable enough around her to show her her civilian identity. “Right. Why do you have a dog?”

Kara lit up. “I saved an animal shelter from a fire and they let me adopt this guy. Isn’t he adorable?”

Lena looked at the matching faces of excitement. “Very cute. But why is he here?”

Kara shrugged. “Well I couldn’t leave him after I’d just adopted him so I thought he could join us for our study session?”

Lena crossed her arms and Kara pouted. It was somewhat undermined by the puppy licking her face and making her giggle but Lena was still helpless to resist.

“Ok but he better not mess up any of my stuff.”

“Yes!” Kara grinned, wiggling the puppy excitedly, his ears flopping about.

Kara kissed her cheek on her way into the apartment and Lena’s heart skipped a beat. The puppy licked her in an attempt to join in but even that didn’t stop the way her heart raced.

They settled on the couch, facing each other as Lena quizzed Kara with flashcards. The puppy alternated between curling up in Kara’s lap and zooming around Lena’s living room, falling over his own paws.

“Ok, last one. How do you treat a sprain?”

“Ice it with my freezebreath, wrap it so it’s compressed but not cutting off circulation, keep it elevated.”

Lena grinned proudly. “That’s it! Done.”

Kara threw her hands in the air in delight, squealing as she propelled herself forwards to tackle Lena to the couch. She pulled back just as quickly, pushing up to brace herself over Lena.

“Sorry. I got excited.”

All the breath had deserted Lena’s lungs and she stared up at Kara. A light flush rose on Kara’s cheeks, pale pink against the deep blue of her eyes, bringing out the freckles that dusted her skin.

The flashcards slipped from Lena’s grasp as she surged up to meet Kara’s lips. Kara’s arms almost buckled but she caught herself. And then she was kissing back.

Lena’s hands slid up Kara’s back, practically pulling Kara down on top of her.

They were both breathing hard when they pulled apart, eyes closed and foreheads rested together.

Kara was smiling softly down at her when she finally opened her eyes. She had shifted to hold herself up on one hand and one elbow, her free hand gently stroking back Lena’s hair.

She looked like she was about to say something when she did a double take over the armrest of the couch behind Lena and her soft look turned into a wince. “What was it you said about the puppy not messing up any of your stuff?”

[peach-the-owl]

Maybe one with Kima and Allura? The reader is an artist and one day they start to leave little notes with sketches for them in random places where they can find them and it's just them being a good friend trying to make them smile during the day.

Aww, I love Kima and Allura so much, their relationship is just so precious 🥰 I hope this turned out well

Also might’ve let myself get carried away with the idea, it’s a bit long 😅

Little Notes

Allura & Kima & Artist!Reader (Platonic)

You were making your way over to Allura's for a visit knowing she had been stressing out over Kima being missing from her mission in Kraghammer and hoping to calm some of those nerves. You walk up to the doors of her tower and give a knock, after a small wait the door opens to reveal the arcanist herself.

"(Y/n)! It’s been awhile, how are you?" She asks slightly surprised by your sudden appearance.

"Hello Allura, sorry about not informing you of my arrival." You sheepishly scratch at the back of your head in apology. "Do you mind if I come in? If not I can just-"

"No no, it’s alright." She stops you and steps out of the way for you to enter the tower. You welcome yourself in and go to sit in your usual spot whenever you’d visit. "I’m actually glad you decided to pop in, I’ve needed a distraction what with everything going on." Allura admits. At this point you pull out your sketchbook and pencil you always carry with you and start to add some fine line work to a piece you’d been working on for weeks now, never seeming to get it quite right.

"I know you’ve been stressing over this, which is exactly why I wanted to come over. So why don’t you tell me about what you’ve been up to recently." You suggest, not looking away from your drawing. You knew this wouldn’t bother Allura because for the years you've known each other, while it looked like you weren’t paying attention to the conversation you actually were, listening very carefully to every word being spoken to you. Allura went on to tell you about her work with the council and some of the worries she has for Kima, you adding in your own thoughts to the conversation every now and again. She then told you about her allies, the adventuring group known as Vox Machina that she asked to help find Kima, you knew about this group and what they did for the royal family but didn’t know them as personally as Allura did.

"I just hope nothing terrible has happened." Allura finally concludes after her long rant. You give an amused hum and sigh, taking proper notice that you’d wandered away from your project and had several random doodles covering the page. However instead of hindering you this placed a wonderful idea into your head.

"Relax Ally, if these people are as capable as you say then they’ll find Kima in no time. Just relax and breath, alright." You look up at her this time seeing her nod and take a few deep breaths. While she was distracted with that you carefully tear out some of the doodles, writing little messages of encouragement on the back of them and stand up. You sneakily slipping one of the notes between the cushion of the chair having it stick out just enough to be noticeable but not too obvious. "It’s been lovely, thank you for having me over but it’s getting late. I should really be making my way home."

"Allow me to walk you out." Allura offers which you happily accept, sneakily hiding the little drawings along the way in various places for Allura to hopefully find later. "I really appreciated the visit, helps to confide in a friend. You’re welcome back anytime." Allura gives you a quick hug that you return before the two of you part ways until next time.

It had been a while since your little visit and felt it only fair to check in and see how everything was going. When you arrive you’re relieved to see that Kima had returned in one piece, while Allura was occupied with thanking Vox Machina for their efforts you quietly shuffle over. You then watch as Kima and Allura share a small moment by staring at each other before they run into each other’s arms, you smile a little at this before deciding to quickly jump in.

"No it’s fine, just pretend I’m not here." You joke gaining everyone’s attention, you walk over to the two and without missing a beat Kima gives you a playful punch in the arm. "I swear to Bahamut Kima, you’re gonna break my arm one of these days." You slightly hiss from the pain.

"Nah if I meant to do that, it'd already be broken." Kima says slyly, you roll your eyes before properly hugging your friend, slipping a little note you’d made into her armour.

"Well now who’s this one?" The red Dragonborn asks. After some proper introductions with the group Allura invites everyone into her tower for tea, you hang back a second unsure if you should join them or just head home early.

"Don’t just stand there, the offer stands for you too." Allura gives a warm smile and ushers you inside.

"I know I just didn’t want to feel like I was overcrowding the place, plus I’m sure you’d like to catch up with Kima." You say meekly. You make your way up and automatically go to sit in your usual spot, pulling out your sketchbook as both a distraction and to continue on a commission for a client you’d received. Enjoying some tea and listening to the conversation between everyone else, Kima leans over your shoulder to look at your work.

"The hell is that supposed to be?" She asks quietly, staring at your drawing.

"Art." You reply cheekily. You catch her rolling her eyes at the corner of yours.

"I know what it is, but what is it?"

"The client asked for something abstract, so this is the result so far." You precede to erase and redraw a few of the lines you’d made until you felt satisfied.

"I don’t get it." You stifle a laugh, Kima didn’t really have an artistic eye but you appreciated that she at least tried to understand your craft whenever the two of you got to interact with each other.

"Shouldn’t you be involved in this conversation? Not to be rude or anything but it sounds important." You look up at Kima now to which she scratches at the back of her head, you can now see the blush on her cheeks.

"His questions were making me a little uncomfortable." She gestures over to the goliath, Grog. You give a reassuring pat her on the shoulder, sneaking another note into her armour before you realize something.

"Sorry to interrupt but what time is it?" After some fumbled reply’s Allura gives you her best estimation. "I have to go, I’ve got client to meet today and sooo much work to do. Thank you for the tea Allura, it was lovely to meet you all and thank you for safely bringing Kima back." You give a bit of a rushed goodbye as you gather up your things and hurry out of the tower, pausing briefly at the door to hide one more note for Allura to find later.

Time came and went, work piled up leaving you busy to no end, the only contact you had with your friends being the letters you’d write each other telling of what you’d been up to. However once the dragons came your world went crashing down, you had longed for a break away from all the work on your shoulders but not like this. Your home was in shambles, your hard work that took you months to complete destroyed in seconds, you considered yourself lucky to have made it out alive. Now you were but another refugee in Whitestone praying for a miracle while doodling in your sketchbook, the only thing that survived with you albeit slightly charred at the corners.

"Oh my gosh! You’re alive!" You hear a familiar voice call, looking over to see Kima run up to you. You give each other hug and once you let go Kima punches your arm.

"Every time I swear." You sigh with a small laugh, rubbing your arm.

"Gotta keep that arm strength up for your art stuff." Kima jokes, trying to lighten the mood a bit. "Anyways, do you know where Ally is?" You shake your head.

"I don’t, but I assume she’s alive, that woman’s a tough cookie." Kima nods in agreement.

"Would you like to help us?" Keyleth asks.

"Me? No I couldn’t, I’ve never really been the adventuring type, I much prefer swinging around a paintbrush over a sword." You politely decline the offer. "But I would like to advise one thing," you pat Kima's shoulder, once again slipping in a note you’d made into her armour in hopes of bringing encouragement. "Don’t do anything rash that could get you killed." Kima gives a quiet "yeah I know" and with that you watch the party continue on their way.

You did what you could with what little resources you had to build up and regain some normality to your life, starting a little side business of making motivational cards for anyone needing an extra pick me up. Folks seemed to really like it, each card having a personalized picture and message written on it, doing what you could to help keep hope alive in these trying times. When you met up with Kima and Allura again Allura was relived to see you were still alive and standing strong. They invited you over to the abode they were staying at together, which put a new idea into your head. Before you arrived for your visit with them you had made more of your little notes for them, this time making a few that you hoped would help spark the romance between the two you’ve seen since day one (secret wingman). When you arrived they gave you a quick tour of the place, leaving opportunities for you to slip the notes into various places around the house, making you wonder if this time they were doing it on purpose having finally caught on to your little gimmick. You all sat down and sipped away at some tea or coffee while talking about the actions going forward, as the evening came you bid your friends a goodnight and made your way back to your temporary living quarters…

More time flew by, the Chroma Conclave was since defeated and Emon was slowly rebuilding itself, a time of peace finally setting in and you had a lot of work ahead of you if you were ever going to be able to buildup your home from scratch. The only downside was you didn’t have the gold to pay for everything, your work as an artist didn’t always pay a lot but it was enough to keep you stable but having to pay to acquire materials for the house and art studio was another story entirely. Your then approached by two very familiar people.

"Allura! Kima! So good to see you both again. I’m sorry I haven’t been able to write or visit often lately, been quite busy trying to re-establish myself." You greet your friends and notice the large bag Kima's carrying.

"It’s alright we’ve been rather busy ourselves with everything going on. We actually wished to talk with you." Allura gives you a gentle smile.

"Well I’d normally like to welcome you into my home, but as you can see it’s… not much of a home yet." You half-joke gesturing to the still ruined state of your house, the broken paintings you once had all having been stripped away when the Cinder King still ruled.

"That was actually one of the things we wished to speak with you about, Kima if you would." She turns to Kima who in turn hulls the bag over her shoulder letting it clatter to the ground, and you can hear the jangling of coin inside. "I believe this should help accommodate everything you need for your home and work." You stare jaw dropped at the bag filled to the brim with gold.

"I-This is very generous of you. I simply can’t just take your money." You say out of shock at the large gold pile in front of you.

"Think of it as payment for all you’ve done for us." Allura smiles and gives you an expectant look.

"All I’ve done? I haven’t really done anything to help."

"Sure you have, back when Kima was missing finding those papers with the little drawings and messages really helped keep me calm and cheer me up through all the stress." Allura explains.

"Yeah, or the ones you managed to slip into my armour. Little distracting at first but invigorating when I was in a tough spot in battle." Kima jumps in. You just smile, all you were doing was trying to be nice and encouraging to your friends unknowing of the effects it apparently lead to.

"Still, not all is from us." Allura suddenly cuts into your thoughts, you look at her confused. "That was the second thing we wanted to talk with you about. Some of this is a sort of upfront payment for a few commissions from our friends, half now to help you and half later once you've completed their requests."

"There’s more!?" You were almost lightheaded from the information, but shake it off and refocus yourself. "I’d love to, please fill me in on all the details."

"First off Keyleth asked for a landscape piece of her home in Zephrah, Keyleth will easily help bring you to and from her home whenever you’re ready. Next Percy wanted a portrait made for castle Whitestone, he said he’d fill in the rest of the details upon your arrival. Finally," Allura gives a bit of a sigh, "there’s Taryon… he wants a, and I quote, 'self portrait made with nothing but the finest oil paints you can get your hands on for the Slayer's Cake.'"

"So basically the plan is to visit Whitestone once my home's rebuilt. That should be fine, one question though, who’s Taryon?"

"Trust me, you’ll know who he is when you meet him."

"Sounds like quite the character." You say with a hint of nervousness. "Well if that’s everything, I should get to work. Thank you again for everything." You go to collect the heavy bag of gold only to pause when you hear Kima speak up.

"Ally did you still wanna… you know ask about the thing?" She had leaned closer to Allura to ask but you still heard her.

"What thing?" You question to which Allura perks up a bit in realization.

"I almost completely forgotten. Right, there was one more, very special request." You look at the two in silence, Allura walks up to you and takes one of your hands in hers. "(Y/n), Kima and I have a very important and special request of you." You just nod and wait for her to continue. "We were wondering if you could make us something special for… for our wedding." You stare wide eyed in awe.

"You two are getting married? That’s amazing! About time too." You cheer.

"Not so loud please, we just want a simple and private wedding you know, a few eye witnesses for the event. You don’t have to make anything grand, if anything we’d like what you make to be similar to the notes you’ve always left us." You press your hands together and hold back the urge to just scream to the heavens in happiness for them. When you manage to calm yourself enough you look back that the couple and give them a large smile.

"I’d be honoured to make something for your wedding." You give them both a hug and reset your sights on your shambled home. "Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a house to get built."

"Hold on, I still have one more thing for you." Kima interrupts this time. Before you can ask you feel a punch impact your arm, you suck back the pain as you rub the spot she hit. "Alright now your free to start." She gives you a smug look.

"Every. Single. Time." You playfully glare back. You had a long road ahead of you and you were certain it’d only be a matter of time before the peace is disturbed again but for now you wanted to focus on the present. Like you said, you had a lot of work to do.

[rainbowbutterfrosting]

The Revived - Chapter 16:

This is chapter 16 of the Dream SMP multichapter fic @dramaticsnakes​ and I wrote together! I hope you’ll enjoy!

AO3

Read in order (on Tumblr)

Characters in this chapter: Wilbur, Ghostbur, Tubbo, Ranboo, Michael

Word count: 3504

Cw: implied loneliness, discussions of bad coping mechanisms, jokes about drugs, guilt

Fic summary: Wilbur was alive, and it was such a magnificent feeling, that made his mind spark with anticipation. It didn’t take long, however, for Wilbur to realize that this new breath of life, was not just his own. An echo-y voice hides in the back of his mind, and before he knows it, the transparent version of him he saw at the endless train station, is a lot more ingrained than he’d expected him to be.

And Wilbur really shouldn’t care. Because he’d be damned, if he spent the life he’d awaited for so long, babysitting a lost cause of a ghost, stuck in the very same limbo Wilbur spent so long in. It was an even exchange, and one Wilbur wasn’t going to mess with. Why exactly he ends up setting out to get the ghost out of his mind, in order to save the both of them, however, is beyond him. And perhaps Wilbur’s past isn’t as easy to leave behind, as he’d hoped it would be.

The evening in the mansion was rather quiet and peaceful, all things considered. Michael had immediately handed the drawing to Wilbur, who reluctantly kept it close. He wasn’t sure if he wanted Tubbo or Ranboo to see it. Not so much because of his own appearance in it, but because he realized that the sight of his ghost counterpart would likely bring up some bad memories.

Another thing that was mostly quiet during the evening was the actual ghost counterpart, much to Wilbur’s dismay. It was simpler, to distract himself from it when Ranboo and Tubbo were talking to him during dinner, or when Michael wanted to show him something, but it bothered him nonetheless. Tubbo and Ranboo had let Wilbur stay in a medium-sized bed in an almost empty room, with a couple of boxes in the corner. Wilbur had promptly excused himself to it, once the silence in his mind, and the chaos from outside, became a little overwhelming.

“Ghostbur?” Wilbur asked, once the door was closed safely behind him.

There was a moment of silence before he heard a quiet gasp. “Oh! Hello!” Ghostbur said, sounding excited to be addressed, but disheartened nonetheless.

“Did you have a good day?” Wilbur asked, taking a deep breath, a little relieved to hear the familiar voice again. “You didn’t say much, so I wasn’t sure.”

“Ah, sorry!” Ghostbur said.

“There’s no need,” Wilbur said, gently. “You can talk if you want to, or remain quiet if you want.” He shrugged, because it shouldn’t matter to him after all.

“Right, right…” Ghostbur said, and Wilbur wasn’t entirely sure if it was understanding or defeat.

Wilbur strolled towards the bed, and sat down, at the tempting mattress. His limbs grew heavier at the feeling. He hummed, thinking of what to say. “Did you know Michael drew you?”

“Huh?” Ghostbur asked, a bit of interest creeping into his tone.

“He did! He made a little crayon drawing of you and Friend.” He laughed slightly at the sentence, “And me.”

“He did?” Ghostbur said, familiar excitement slipping into the words, “What does it look like?”

Wilbur went on to explain as many details of the drawings he could reasonably give, despite the minimalist art style. The ghost listened intently. It was strange, the peace Wilbur suddenly felt, as the ghost sounded gradually happier, and he was sitting there alone as the night grew darker outside. Eventually, the inevitability of sleep snuck up on Wilbur. It felt strange, unfair even, to leave Ghostbur hanging like that. Not that Wilbur concerned himself with it of course, but it was a bit sad to think about the silence Ghostbur would experience, as soon as Wilbur drifted off to sleep.

But it happened nonetheless, and the darkness surrounded him, carrying him to rest in a matter of minutes, all the events of the past day slipping away calmly. They wouldn’t bother him until he turned to the waking world again.

The next morning he awoke to the sounds of birds chirping and the sun barely visible, but still visible enough to fill the room with a faint light. He stretched in the bed, before lying there for a few moments. His mind wandered, mostly refreshing his mind of yesterday and if there was anything he was supposed to do again. He remembered Ghostbur’s gloominess from the day before with an awkward feeling in his chest. He mumbled, “Good morning.”

A few moments passed with no response. Wilbur slightly frowned, “Ghostbur?”

“Oh! You were talking to me!” Ghostbur’s tiredness showed through his voice. It wasn't tiredness from a lack of sleep that made your voice gently crack on itself, but rather an exhaustion that couldn’t be fixed with rest. “Good morning. Did you sleep well?”

“Mhm.” Wilbur sat up from the bed, swinging his legs over so he was sitting normally. “I don’t remember being able to sleep that well in limbo, can you?” 

He hoped it was different for the ghost. That maybe he could also have a copy of Friend there for him instead of only having a faint grip of reality through Wilbur. “Nope. What did you do for fun here?” He heard a sigh from Ghostbur.

Wilbur pursed his lips. “I mean, it wasn’t really the best place in the universe.” He heard a small hum of acknowledgment. “Sometimes I walked down the tunnel. I would go ‘til my legs were tired. Then I tried to go for longer.” The words slipped out effortlessly, yet his voice became quieter the further he got into it, “I timed myself in my head, the quickest I could collapse was… two minutes? There were some seconds added on, but I can’t remember.” 

“Yeah, maybe I’ll try that.” His voice wasn’t enthusiastic- something Wilbur was grateful for.

Wilbur shook his head, “No no no, I’m a bit of a hypocrite. You shouldn't follow in my footsteps.”

“Don’t worry, maybe I’ll run the way you didn’t go! Wait- why shouldn’t I run where you did?”

Wilbur sighed, “I didn’t mean that. I just meant you shouldn’t do what I did. I’m just…” Wilbur wanted to say he wasn’t a good role model because while it certainly was the honest truth, he didn’t care for the truth all that much. Information gives you the upper hand. “It was just a dumb decision and I don’t want to waste your time.”

Ghostbur’s voice was clearly dismayed, “There’s nothing much else to do. I mean- sometimes I can imagine stuff in my head! Like when I would play with Michael!” His excitement picked up at the end, but it wasn’t at the same level it used to be.

Wilbur tried smiling, “Yeah. That’s good. You should continue doing that.”

“I try to, but then it makes me sad. The feeling doesn’t go away anymore.”

Wilbur would’ve stood up from the bed and walked downstairs, but he didn��t want to end the conversation. “Doesn’t go away anymore?”

Ghostbur sighed, “Yeah. When I was alive, I would talk to people. Then- I think something bad would happen. At least that’s what other people said. After it was over, I would be talking with friends again! It was nice because I felt better a lot sooner than other people would.” Ghostbur paused for a moment. “I’ve heard that people get sad for multiple days, and I’m glad that never really happened to me. I wish it didn’t happen in general though. They deserve to be happy.”

“Yeah… being sad isn’t that fun.” Wilbur felt oddly empty at the words, the simplification of them making him remember the past. The days he went without sleep, trying to figure out how to win the election. The look of concern he got when Tommy told him that he should rest. Yet, he supposed those days weren’t exactly sad. They weren’t cheery, but they weren’t sad either. They held an odd sort of void to him, blending together before he even knew they started. 

He’d known about it, partially. About how Ghostbur was shaped by the good and didn’t remember any of the bad things Wilbur had experienced, nor the bad memories he had on his own. Yet it was quite another to hear him say it. To hear him speak of it as if it was something natural. Feeling better faster than others, because the memories slipped away. Wilbur hadn’t realized that wouldn’t be the case anymore. Perhaps forgetting was more merciful.

Wilbur stood up from the bed, “I’m gonna go eat some breakfast.”

Ghostbur seemed excited once more as he clapped. “I love breakfast so much! It’s one of my favorite meals.”

Wilbur nodded as he let out a sound of amusement, “Good choice.”

He walked to the door of the room, opening it slowly, afraid of disturbing any peace inside the house. He peeked his head out and looked both ways, yet he couldn’t see anyone awake. He exited the room, closing the door behind him. He carefully made his way downstairs.

When Wilbur entered the barely set-up dining room, it was as if the entire place hadn’t quite woken up yet. Tubbo was languidly standing on one side of the room, half doing the dishes, and half making breakfast. On the floor on the other side, by an open box of whatever furniture or household items it contained, Ranboo was sitting up against the wall, flipping through a book. Michael was sitting right next to him, once again leaning over a piece of paper, happily doodling on it with crayons.

He walked to where Tubbo was, making his footsteps loud enough to be heard, but not enough to startle him. Tubbo turned around, a welcoming smile on his face, “Good morning.” 

Ghostbur cheerily replied, “Good morning!”

Wilbur stood next to the boy, looking over his shoulder, “Whatcha making?”

Tubbo shrugged. “I’m just cutting up some apples right now. Makin’ pancakes. American ones specifically, because Ranboo says English ones are just sad crepes.”

Wilbur rolled his eyes. He was surprised the centrist even had an opinion on food. He seemed to stay neutral on so many other regards, yet pancakes were where he drew the line, “What a weird guy. What should I start doing?”

Tubbo furrowed his eyebrows for a moment before speaking, “You’re a guest, you aren’t going to be the one cooking.”

Wilbur rolled his eyes as his tone returned gentle, “Like old times.”. He spent so many days making breakfast in L’Manberg that he hadn’t even thought that things were different. Most of those early moments were spent with Tubbo before he went undercover as a spy. They both couldn’t stay asleep or didn’t sleep soon enough and decided to just start the day. They formed the routine of the person in the kitchen, decided what they were making, and the other helped until it was finished.

Tubbo looked away, his posture more rigid. Wilbur pursed his lips, he ruined another moment. Another peaceful moment was torn out of Tubbo’s head by the hands of a person he only invited to his home out of pity. He forced words to roll off his tongue, ones that didn’t belong but had to be placed there, “Just joking, man.”

Tubbo hesitantly laughed, “Yeah,” He returned his gaze to the fruit in front of him. Wilbur slightly narrowed his eyes, not out of anger, but the confusion that persisted ever since his return. Everyone asserted that everything was different, but it all lingered in his head all the same. He could picture L’Manberg in its glory along with the uniforms that fit his soldiers perfectly. Yet no one else could. 

“Michael, no!” a voice from the other side of the room suddenly exclaimed, Wilbur immediately turned his head. He was met by the sight of Ranboo, worriedly trying to pull a piece of paper out of Michael’s mouth. Only a small part of it was stuck in there as if Michael had merely tried to lick it and had decided to chew on it afterward. “Let go, it’s not food.” Ranboo tried. With a sharp pull, Ranboo landed on his back with the paper in hand, and Michael looked disappointed.

Tubbo’s squinted, looking confused and concerned at the same time. “Didn’t we take away the yellow crayons?”

Ranboo sighed deeply, “Orange.”

“Michael doesn’t eat orange though?” Tubbo said.

Ranboo sat up and looked at Tubbo with a completely deadpan expression. “You haven’t considered the implications of light orange.”

Tubbo gasped with realization. “Oh,” he rushed towards the packet of crayons, picking out the orange ones hurriedly. Ranboo discarded the paper, and Michael watched with crossed arms, looking a bit annoyed at the whole ordeal. Wilbur couldn’t contain some light laughter as the scene unfolded.

Not too long after, breakfast was served. It was a lot less strained than Wilbur had perhaps feared. They chatted about Michael’s strange habits of eating crayons along with similar childhood stories. Light-hearted chuckles passed around the table, with Michael joining in occasionally. Even when they all finished their plates, they continued to sit. They only started moving when Michael seemed fussy with his high chair. Tubbo quickly took him out, setting him on the floor again. 

Tubbo picked up the dishes from the table. “I’ll clean these up. You and Michael can play for a bit.” Wilbur nodded and got up from his seat at the same time as Ranboo. Wilbur felt a pulling sensation on his pant leg, he goofily smiled when he looked down and realized it was Michael. 

Ranboo took the plates from Tubbo’s hands. “You cooked breakfast, it’s only fair that I wash the dishes.”

Tubbo gently pulled on them back. “And you played with Michael all morning.”

Ranboo rolled his eyes as he set the plates onto the kitchen counter. “Oh my, it’s so hard to be a Dad. Wow, it’s so difficult to just watch a child when the child is still waking up.”

Tubbo groaned, “I can’t believe you.”

Ranboo nodded. “I make such good points that you can’t even try.” While he seemed disinterested in the beginning, a small smile appeared on his face.

Tubbo sighed, “Yeah. I really can’t compete with the world’s best dad and husband. If only I could wash the dishes to pay him back.”

“Awww, I think they’re flirting again,” Ghostbur cooed. 

Ranboo let out a laugh, “Sure sure, maybe tomorrow.” He quickly leaned down and planted a quick kiss on Tubbo’s forehead. 

Tubbo scoffed, “Bitch.” He playfully punched Ranboo’s shoulder before heading off in Wilbur's direction. Wilbur even forgot he was there, wrapped inside the domestic peace of their family. He blinked and looked down at Michael, the child still pulling gently on Wilbur’s pant leg. 

“We’ll be in Michael’s room,” Tubbo called out to Ranboo. Ranboo nodded and continued putting the dishes in the sink. Tubbo started walking up the stairs and Michael quickly followed. Wilbur was walking a bit slower than before. Cautiously perhaps, though he wasn’t certain why. He smiled at Michael.

“Ooh, what are we going to play with Michael?” Ghostbur asked, though it was said in such a way, that he likely didn’t expect a response. Wilbur let out a relieved breath, at least a little comforted by the fact that Ghostbur had been talking this morning. It was going to be alright. Wilbur held on to the faint thread of a connection for now, each word from the ghost feeling like his one chance to take a breath. 

As they returned to Michael’s barely furnished room, Wilbur almost felt as if he’d settled into a routine. It was silly really, having been there for just one night, but the walls seemed familiar. Familiar in a way that was a lot less suffocating than most familiar walls Wilbur could think of. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to settle into that feeling. It wasn’t there to stay, but he could pretend it was for the time being. Though the warmth almost seemed to burn him.

Soon enough, he found himself sitting on the floor, playing with little toys shaped like various animals and other mobs. While Wilbur found it difficult to figure out exactly what they were playing, he released a scream from a toy he’d dubbed the Skeleton King, as Michael played the chicken protagonist, defeating the king for the last time. Ghostbur chimed in every once in a while, despite him knowing even less of what was going on. Ghostbur suggested that the chicken hero had a friend who was a ghost cow, and Wilbur had decided to incorporate it into the story. Partially just to please Ghostbur, though the smile on Michael’s face was priceless.

He looked over in Tubbo’s direction. The boy was feeling the walls when Wilbur realized they had a bit of crayon on them. Not much, but enough to notice if you looked close enough. He gasped quietly at the thought in his mind. He reached in his pocket, feeling the sugar cane in his hand. A small grin slipped onto his face as he discreetly crushed it up, forming a small pile of sugar in his hand. 

He shuffled slightly towards the edge of the table, gesturing for Michael to come along. The toddler tilted his head but walked over to where Wilbur was. Wilbur barely resisted laughing as he put the sugar on the table in a thin line. It wasn’t the neatest one in the world, but it would have to do. 

Wilbur spoke loud enough for Tubbo to hear, “Alright, first you get it in a line. It can be a bit hard to do sometimes, but you can always use the edge of a sword or a piece of paper if you’re really desperate.” Tubbo raised an eyebrow as his eyes widened at the scene. He immediately ran over, picking Michael up as he quickly placed the child farther away from Wilbur. Michael, on the other hand, didn’t understand the situation as he attempted to run back to Wilbur. 

Tubbo grabbed onto Michael’s shoulders before he could go far, turning the zombie piglin around to see him. His voice was tense, but still light enough. “Michael, how about you play tag with Dad for a bit, okay?” 

“Tubbo doesn’t sound okay,” Ghostbur supplemented. Although Wilbur could’ve been able to read the room himself, the ghost’s voice was always a nice echo in his mind.

Michael huffed, looking between Tubbo and Wilbur. Tubbo nodded, showing him the direction of the door. He even slipped a smile into his voice, although the one on his face seemed tense, “You can go down the stairs by yourself.”

Michael squealed excitedly as he ran out of the room, his footsteps heard as he excitedly ran down. Tubbo closed the door behind him as his eyes met Wilbur’s. A foolish grin sat on Wilbur’s face, “Your reaction was priceless!” He cackled as he casually pushed around the sugar on the table.

Tubbo sharply exhaled, “Wilbur.” His voice was sharp and jagged in a way Wilbur didn’t quite expect.

“It’s just some sugar in a line. C’mon, man, you can taste it yourself.” He picked a bit of sugar from off the table and put it in his mouth, making slightly exaggerated expressions as he emphasized that it wasn’t anything bad.

Some of Tubbo’s edge disappeared, but at least half of it remained, “Yeah, I know you wouldn’t hurt Michael it’s just-” He cut himself off with a sigh. He looked away from Wilbur’s gaze and back at the wall with some crayon on it. “L’Manberg.”

Wilbur furrowed his brow, “What about it?”

They waited a few moments in silence before Tubbo hesitantly spoke, “Why did you start L’Manberg?”

Wilbur stated his answer automatically, “To declare independence from Dream. You were there, Tubbo.”

Tubbo shook his head, “No no, what was the original purpose of L’Manberg?”

Wilbur thought for a moment. Tommy’s disks flew into his mind, but L’Manberg was never really centered on them, only Tommy and Dream did. He drifted onto the idea of community, but that was found after the nation was formed. Power maybe? Power seemed like a nice answer, but it somehow didn’t feel right on his tongue. He snapped his fingers as a look of realization came across his face, “Oh! We were gonna set up a drug empir- oh.”

History really does repeat itself in an ironic way.

Tubbo pursed his lips as he couldn’t meet Wilbur’s gaze, “Yeah.”

“Tubbo…” Wilbur’s voice trailed off before he continued again, “I mean, L’Manberg is over and done with. It’s not too big of a problem.” Wilbur scooped up the remaining sugar on the table and dumped it into his mouth.

Ghostbur seemed flabbergasted, “What are you eating? It seems… good? Is that the right word?” Wilbur nodded but Ghostbur couldn’t see.

Wilbur moved his gloves against each other, removing the rest of the remaining substance from himself. “Sugar never really loses its touch.” He stood up from the table. He slightly frowned when he spotted the cloudy look in Tubbo’s eyes. “You… okay?”

Tubbo met Wilbur’s gaze for a moment before looking towards the door. “I know it was yesterday when you read the destruction of L’Manberg, really, it’s a new day. But-” Tubbo shakily exhaled, “Just because you got to destroy all of your hard work, doesn’t mean you’ll get to destroy mine too.”

Wilbur sympathetically looked at the boy as he walked closer. Tubbo tensed up noticeably. Wilbur stopped a few steps in front of Tubbo. “Tubbo.” A gentle assertiveness filled his voice, “Tubbo look at me.” Tubbo narrowed his eyes for a moment but met Wilbur’s gaze. Tears laced the boy’s eyes, the shine of them giving it away.

Wilbur took a breath, “Dream is in prison. L’Manberg is… gone.” The word felt bitter on his tongue. “I don’t have anything against you. I- I care about you being happy. I wouldn’t do anything to purposely ruin it.” Wilbur opened his arms for a hug.

Tubbo stepped forward as Wilbur’s chest lept and a small grin went across his face, but Tubbo side-stepped at the last moment, opening the door just a bit behind Wilbur. Before the door closed, Tubbo mentioned a whisper into the air, “It’s okay.” The words seemed to waver slightly as if they were meant to comfort himself and not Wilbur. The door clicked and he was alone once more.

[deiitaelric]

Amnesia / bakudeku fic part 3

Part 2

“Maybe I have something to say about this, don’t you think?” Izuku was standing a few feet apart, looking at him piercingly. Inko got up, pushing the chair on its place again.

“I’ll leave you two alone so you can talk” She passed behind Katsuki and placed a hand over his shoulder. “You can stay the night. There’s a futon in Izuku’s wardrobe” She moved away from him and caressed Izuku’s face before leaving. “Good night, sweetie”

“Good night, mom”

Izuku stayed still until he heard his mother closing the door of her room. “Tell me,” Katsuki balled his hand into fists over the table and looked away. “You said you hurt me. I want to know why”

“…I tried to push you away from me because I didn’t want to be the one being hurt”

“So did I hurt you first?” Izuku asked, taking a few steps toward him.

“No, you didn’t”

“Then why would you be hurt?”

“You’re so transparent… I didn’t want to be seen through… through you. So I pushed you away. I thought it was easier for me pushing you away instead of confront myself”

“And what-? What did you do to push me away?”

“I acted like I hated you” Katsuki contracted his shoulders, all his muscles tensed. “I kept calling you ‘useless’, making you feel unworthy, and refusing you every time you were around. And the worst was that my acts encouraged other people to do the same”

“Did you hate me, though?” The question caught Katsuki by surprise. He looked up at Izuku, who was just a couple feet apart now.

“What? No, I mean… I don’t know. I was pissed off with you when I should be only pissed off with myself. And… Not even that. I don’t know. I think there was a point when I really believed I hated you for real, but it was just… fear. I even… fuck”

“Even what? What did you do, Katsuki?”

“You-” Started Katsuki with a trembling voice. He sighed, trying to relax his muscles a bit before starting again. “You used to carry a notebook everywhere. You drew so much and took notes of your days and shits like that. You didn’t never really show me them” Katsuki shook his head, shrugging slightly. “The thing is, one day this transferred student came up in our class. He pissed me off only standing there all full of himself. But when the classes ended and I passed beside your desk, I saw a bunch of drawings of him in your sketchbook. It really pissed me off” He closed his eyes tight. “So I grabbed the notebook and threw it through the window, making fun of you about your sexuality. You… you kinda confront me and it pissed me off even more. So I… I kept insulting you at the point of telling you that you should jump off the roof and wish to be born the right way in your next life”

They remained silent; Katsuki not feeling the courage to look up at him, preparing himself for the storm. But then Izuku landed a hand over one of his arms.

“Wait!” Katsuki looked up at him, finally, and saw his pretty green eyes really focused. “Oh my god, wait a moment!” He grabbed Katsuki’s arm tighter and pulled him to his feet, carrying the blonde away towards his own room.

“What are you doing? Didn’t you hear what I just told you?” Izuku shushed him and Katsuki looked at him in disbelief. What the fuck was wrong with him? Before realizing what was happening, Katsuki was sitting at Izuku’s desk with the other in front of him flipping pages of a nasty notebook.

“Here!” Izuku landed the sketchbook roughly on the desk. “It’s him, right?”

Katsuki looked at the drawings, a little smudged, the page ruined here and there as if water had fallen on it. Maybe his fault. There was a little pond below the windows of his old class. So yeah, highly probable his fault. Fuck.

“Yeah, but what are you-?”

“Todoroki”

“Huh?”

“His name. I just remembered his name. I… I kinda remember him” He approached and landed a finger on the biggest drawing. “Half his hair was red, that’s why it’s shadowed. The other half was white. His eyes were different color, too”

Katsuki looked up at him, confused, pissed off, aghast. Izuku started pacing around his room, hands locked on his green curls.

“I didn’t remember... I just remembered him now. He was a little stone-cold at first, but after some time we ended up being friends. I wonder what happened, because I didn’t hear from him for the last two years” He started rambling and Katsuki sighed slightly, turning again to look at the pages. It still pissed him off the well-drawn that face was in all his versions, how careful the lines were. He turned the page and saw more pretty drawings. He kept flipping pages and found tiny landscapes, some doodles of little objects, even some animals. He ran a finger over the lines when he found a self-portrait. “Keep talking”

Katsuki’s hand flinched back like the page had burned him. And he was grateful because Izuku just appeared on his side. He panicked a little when he found the sketchbook on another page.

“Sorry” Said Katsuki, closing the notebook and handing it to the other. “I already told you what I had to tell you. And you are as reckless as ever. Do you not fucking care?”

“It’s not like I don’t care, but… Look, I only remember like two years of my life and I have memories of people making fun of me for similar reasons”

“That’s not a reason for not being mad at me!”

“Are you mad at me because I’m not mad at you?”

“I- Yes! I was horrible towards you! I made you feel bad about yourself, even if you’re in fact straight it might hurt you I said that to you, I mean- And I was an asshole even before, calling you useless for years, too. You should be mad at me!”

“Look at you” Said Izuku, calmly, almost smiling. Katsuki was suddenly conscient of his wide and watery eyes, his panting, his hands clenched in fists over his thighs. He looked away, brushing aggressively his eyes with the dorse of his hand.

“Fuck you. I’m going home” He got up and marched towards the door.

“No, wait!” Izuku grabbed his clothes and Katsuki brushed him off but stopped. “Please, wait! I wasn’t making fun of you. I only wanted you to be aware of yourself. How can I be mad at you if you’re feeling so bad about having done that?”

Katsuki turned and looked at him, frowning.

“That doesn’t change shit”

“Yeah, it does. I never saw anyone feeling bad about hurting me. From what I can remember, nobody never apologized”

“Well, I’m sorry, okay? And I mean it”

“I know. That’s what I wanted to point out. So don’t be mad at me, please. And don’t be mad at you, neither”

“You just can’t say that. It can’t be that easy, you’re just being reckless”

“This was easy for you? I don’t think so. And it isn’t easy for me, either. I…” Izuku made a pause and looked at his feet. “I just regained a friend; can I keep it?”

“I haven't been your friend for a long time…”

“Whatever. Can you be it again?”

___

TBC

[captainjanegay]

Where I’m Meant to Be | Stucky | Meet-Cute, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Kid Fic, No powers AU | Chapters 7/? | total 29k words | Ao3

Summary: Bucky is a single dad coming back from a work trip with a very bored, very whiney 7-year-old girl. A mysterious stranger with a kind heart and a notebook full of doodles comes to the rescue.

A/N: It's been... so long since I've updated this fic. I'm sorry but life got in the way and I couldn't bring myself to write anything. Here I come with apologies and hopes that you haven't forgotten about the adventures of Bucky, Alex and Steve. I'm gonna treat you with the longest chapter I've ever written (it's like 5.3k). I hope you'll like it, I got a bit carried away and my space-nerdiness is showing every now and then.

The chapters will probably come very irregularly from now on but I'll try my best not to have too long gaps between each update. I love you all and — as always — thank you so, so much for your continuous support. I cherish every single reader, every single like and every single comment you leave here :')

Chapter 7

(5.2k)

When Monday rolls around, Bucky faces New York’s chilly morning as he makes his way to work. It’s been only a few days since he got sick, but he feels significantly better now. His nose might still be stuffed and his throat might feel a bit scratchy, but he is mostly fine. No more coughing fits, no more fever. And it’s not like he could say no when his boss called him to check how he was doing and ask if he’d be able to come by before Christmas to do some required maintenance work.

But it’s fine, since the work at the Institute has slowed down, many people have already taken their days off for the Christmas break. It’s calmer than usual and Bucky can do whatever he’s supposed to do in peace.

It's a bit past noon and Bucky's mindlessly staring at the progress bar on his screen and enjoys his coffee. The peace and quiet — excluding his Christmas playlist playing in the background — is disturbed by the ringing of his phone. Slightly startled, Bucky looks around, searching for the device. After a quick glance at the screen, he answers the call.

"Hi, Buck!" Steve says, his voice soft and warm. "I hope I didn't wake you up or anything. Just wanted to check up on you, see how you're feeling."

"That's very sweet of you," Bucky says, his lips spreading in a smile. "And I'm fine, thank you. Currently waiting for the data backup to finish so you've disrupted my staring contest with the progress bar."

Steve doesn't appreciate the joke. Instead, he asks, "You're at work?" After receiving an affirmative hum, he lets out a slightly annoyed huff. "Why? You should still be in bed! Three days ago you've been barely able to get up for longer than 10 minutes. You should still rest, Buck."

"It's been six days ago, thank you very much," Bucky answers. "And I'm fine, Steve. I promise. I wouldn't come if I was still feeling sick, but the fever's been gone for a few days," two but Steve doesn't have to know that, "and I'm not coughing anymore. I'm as fit as a fiddle."

"I can hear you sniffle."

"It's the allergies," Bucky lies and that makes Steve laugh, although a bit exasperated.

"You're horrible," he says. "Bet you haven't even eaten breakfast or drink enough water or like... didn’t even wear a hat even though you’re sick."

"I did have a toast while I ran to catch the train. And now I'm having coffee for lunch. And it’s not even that cold."

An honest-to-God gasp escapes Steve's mouth after he hears that. Of course he's a Mr. Healthy Lifestyle, Bucky shouldn't even be surprised.

"How are you even functioning? You gotta take care of yourself, Buck."

Bucky's heart skips a bit. It's nice to have someone worry about him. Even if he's being dragged in the meantime. And it was nice when Steve took care of him and Alex back when Bucky was too sick to do this. Of course, he has people who do that. Clint, Tasha, Scott -- he can always count on them. But somehow it feels different with Steve. Steve hasn't been around for years like the others, he's known Bucky for just a few months and he still decided to offer his kindness and care. This thought made Bucky's heart do somersaults in his chest.

So did the fact that Steve had a nickname to Bucky's nickname. And he's been using it a lot. Bucky really likes it.

"I'm functioning very well, thank you. And so is Alex, because I'm not as hopeless in taking care of her, luckily," Bucky chuckles. Before Steve can't say anything, Bucky adds, "Besides, I've been able to survive 28 years like this so don't be overdramatic. No need to go all mother hen on me."

"Oh, you think this is overdramatic?" Steve asks, amused. "You clearly don't know what me being overdramatic is, pal. This is just some simple, friendly check-in."

"Okay, now I'm kinda curious," Bucky says. His cheeks hurt from smiling so much. "Hypothetically, what would one have to do to see what is Steve Rogers's definition of overdramatic?"

It makes Steve let out another laugh. "Careful what you wish for, Buck." It sounds like Steve wants to say something else but there's some noise in the background and his voice becomes distant and inaudible for a moment. When he comes back, he says with a sigh, "Sorry 'bout that. I need to go back to work. I'm glad you're feeling better but eat a proper meal or I'll hunt you down."

"Oh, so no mother hen anymore, were going straight to threats, okay." Bucky nods to himself and Steve huffs out a laugh. "Thanks for the call, Steve. It's very sweet of you. Have a nice day."

"You, too. Say hi to Alex from me."

"I will. Bye, Steve."

.

A small smile is still present on Bucky's face when a few hours later he's picking Alex up from school. It grows bigger when she runs towards him down the stairs, her haphazardly wrapped scarf fluttering behind her. He takes a moment to tuck it properly and then takes Alex's backpack from her.

“How was school today?” Bucky asks as they head home.

“Fine. We played soccer and I scored once!” Alex answers proudly. “Even Adrian didn’t and he’s very good. Maya didn’t want to play ‘cause she says girls shouldn’t play soccer.”

“Jokes on her, because we have a women’s national soccer team and they’re the best. They’re the world champions.”

A gasps escapes Alex’s mouth. “Really? That’s so cool! I want to be a soccer player when I grow up!”

“Not a ballerina, anymore?” Bucky asks, with a small smile.

“No, I’m gonna be a ballerina but I’m gonna play soccer sometimes, too. But that’s after I’ll fly to the moon!”

Bucky only nods and grins at her. He wouldn’t be surprised in the least if she actually pulled that off in the future. There weren’t many things that could stop her since she decided upon something.

“How’s space?” Alex asks, swinging their hands back and forth.

Bucky chuckles. It’s a bit of a tradition at this point. He doesn’t really remember how it started but now she never asks him “how’s work” but it’s always “how’s space?”. Personally, Bucky loves it. It makes him feel like he’s doing much cooler things that he really does.

“Pretty boring, sadly,” he admits. “Didn’t have much to do today and many people are on their breaks so no fun space facts to share today. I chatted on the phone with Steve and he wanted me to say hi to you.”

“Oh, is he coming over today?”

Slightly confused with the question, Bucky shakes his head. “No, he’s not. We just talked on the phone. Why?”

“I don’t know, I thought you liked Steve.”

“Well, I do. I like uncle Scott too but we don’t hang out with him every day, either. Steve has his own life and stuff to do, so we shouldn’t bother him all the time.”

Alex makes a small hum and Bucky’s not sure if it’s a dismissive or an agreeing one. After a moment, she adds, “I bet he wouldn’t mind though. He told me he really likes you.”

“What? When?” The revelation almost makes Bucky stop in the middle of the pavement. The biggest surprise is not that Steve likes him, Bucky has figured out this much after all those times they’ve hung out together. What really takes him aback is that apparently his daughter and Steve are having conversations about him when he’s not there.

“When you were sick and Steve went to ballet class with me. I told him he’s cool and I’m happy you have him so you’re not so lonely. And he said he thinks we’re really cool too and that he likes us a lot.”

This time Bucky slows down and eventually stops. There’s a furrow between his brows when he looks at Alex.

“Why would you think I’m lonely, munchkin? I’m not, I have you and mama, uncle Clint and Scott. And now Steve. I’m more than fine.”

“Well… Okay, maybe I didn’t mean lonely. But sometimes when you have a lot to do and you worry and mama or uncle Clint are busy you do this—” Alex furrows her brows and pouts, apparently imitating a worried Bucky “and you’re quiet and worried. And now you smile even more than you did. You smile all the time when you text Steve.”

For a moment, Bucky only gapes at her, not sure how to react. That’s a lot of information coming at once from his 7-year-old daughter.

“I’m— Well, I’m okay, even if I worry sometimes. And I couldn’t be lonely, having such a sweet little munchkin by my side,” he smiles, bopping her on the nose and getting a smile in return. “But thank you for caring about me, sweetheart. I love you to the moon and back.”

“And I love you to Jupiter!” she answers.

“But not back?” Bucky raises an eyebrow.

“Nah, it’s already so far away, it’s enough.”

The conversation with Alex stays in Bucky’s head for the rest of the day. It’s gnawing at him enough that before he goes to bed, he takes out his phone and calls Natasha.

“How’s my favourite co-parent doing?” she greets.

“Do you have any more co-parents?” Bucky asks instead of answering.

“Nope. That’s what makes you my favourite.” Bucky only sighs so she continues. “Did something happen? You’re usually in the mood for late night conversation when something’s on your mind.”

There’s no point in denying it since Natasha would see right through him. “It’s nothing bad. Apparently Alex thinks I’m lonely.”

“Well, she’s not wrong.”

“What? Tasha, no. I’m not lonely, where did you two get that idea?”

“James, it’s not my fault that you’re an idiot. I know that you have people who love you around. You know that, too. But I know and you also should know — but here’s the ‘idiot’ part — that it might not be enough sometimes. And I’m pretty sure we’ve had a similar conversation like a month ago, so I don’t know why you act all surprised now.”

“Remind me, why did I even call you?”

“Because I am incredible and you value my opinion like no one else’s and also you love me deeply,” Natasha explains dutifully. 

Bucky huffs out a laugh as he sits heavily on the side of his bed. His eyes land on the comic from Steve, still laying on Bucky’s bedside table, propped against the lamp. “Sounds fake, but okay.”

“Did our daughter have any more revelations for you?” Natasha asks.

“Well…,” Bucky hesitates for a moment. “She and Steve gossip about me when I’m not around. And apparently I’ve been smiling more lately. But that’s about it.” 

Natasha hums but even through the phone Bucky can hear that she’s rather amused. 

"What?" Bucky asks.

"I didn't say anything!"

"I can hear you laughing, just say whatever mean thing you're going to say and let's get this over with."

"I'm not gonna say anything mean! I was just wondering when we'd mention Steve in this conversation," she chuckles. "But really. Even your daughter can see that a relationship would be good for you. And that you like Steve a lot. Why not kill two birds with one Steve?"

Bucky sighs. "Because one Steve is also enough to kill this friendship we have."

"Why do you always just automatically assume that things will get fucked? It doesn't have to be the case. I'm serious, you'd better take a grip on yourself and ask him out or I'm back in three days and I'll do this for you. And I'll be as obnoxious and embarrassing for you as I can."

That's actually a pretty horrible threat. She would do that. And it would be both mortifying and horrible to experience for all the involved parties — maybe except Natasha. Bucky laughs, trying to imagine it, but the laugh is short-lived.

"Come on, Nat," Bucky starts after a moment, getting serious. "Steve is great and it's great having him around. But what if I make a move and he's not interested? I don't want to freak him out. Or remember that message I accidentally saw on his computer? He might be seeing someone already or be interested in someone else," Bucky pinches the bridge of his nose. "Plus, I know from experience that no matter how much he might seem to like me, a guy with a kid can turn out to be a bit much for people. I don't want to get hurt. I don't want Alex to get hurt. She adores Steve and I don't know if I can risk it."

"But I'm telling you, nobody's getting hurt anytime soon," Natasha chimes in. "You're overthinking, Yasha. Those are all valid concerns but you know what the counterargument is?" She takes a small break but she's not expecting Bucky to respond. "Steve's a good guy. He likes you. He likes Alex. He came to a primary school dance recital after knowing you for like a week just because you and Alex asked him to. Even if he doesn't want a relationship, it doesn’t mean that your friendship has to end. From all you've told me, he doesn't seem like the kind to trample on your hearts like this. Give yourself some time, but promise me you're gonna think about it, okay? And call me if you work yourself up into an anxious mess again, okay?”

“I will try not to be an anxious mess, but I’ll let you know. And I’ll think about it. Thanks, Tasha.” Bucky says.

“I love you no matter what, you dumbfuck. Bye.”

Bucky barely manages to say it back before she hangs up. He shakes his head with a small smile and retrieves his charger cable from behind the bedside table. As he plugs his phone, he accidentally knocks down the drawing from Steve. He picks it up, staring at the soft lines for who-knows-which time. His thumb gently traces the “Get well soon, Buck! x” scribbled at the bottom.

Looking at it, Bucky imagines the moment when Steve was writing it down. In his mind, he sees both Steve and Alexandra at the kitchen table, both leaning over their respective pieces of paper, focused on whatever they’re drawing. They are smiling, chatting about whatever common interest they’ve currently discovered. It’s a very nice picture. Enough to make Bucky’s heart ache.

Because Natasha is right. This is exactly what Bucky craves and what he’s been ignoring for years. That domesticity, that warm feeling one gets when looking at someone they care about. That happiness. He can almost imagine himself joining the picture he’s created in his head, walking over to that table and dropping a kiss first on Alex’s head and then on Steve’s, before he starts preparing the dinner. It feels right. 

Maybe it’s not usual to imagine this calm, family life with someone he’s not even in a relationship with. Most people probably think of tons of other things, things that are not so… settled. Not as serious. Sometimes they never reach this part. But Bucky has figured a while ago that it doesn’t really work for him. He already has a family. And this family means everything and more to him. If he ever was to date, he has to make sure that the person would fit into his and Alexandra’s life. He has to skip ahead to make sure it’s worth going through the dates and the passion and all the work a relationship requires, without it all ending in a heartbreak. But Steve… 

Steve fits so well into this picture, it scares Bucky a bit. Because this would be even harder to let go, if things didn't work out.

It's pretty clear, now that he allows himself to think about it, that he has some feelings for Steve. Besides the friendliness and sympathy, that is. They're the romantic kind and they're still fresh and shy but they're here. And Bucky has absolutely no clue how to deal with them. It's not even that surprising, he realises. Because how could he not catch feelings for Steve? For the kindest, most thoughtful and most selfless person in the world? For someone with his heart made of gold, who always knows how to make Bucky laugh? Someone who gets so passionate about the things he loves and just as much about the ones he despises? Who cares deeply, laughs with his whole body and who next to all this softness and kindness, is also a stubborn little asshole? Who — and this is the most important of all — adores Alex and whom she adores just as much?

Bucky's heart was a lost cause from the start.

Steve has a lot of qualities that Bucky would fall for if he looked for a partner. And that he accidentally might have fallen for anyway. And that's all without even mentioning that Steve is so ridiculously attractive that it might've skewed Bucky's view on beauty forever. 

The point is — Natasha is right. That this could be a good thing. They could be a good thing. But what they have now is already good and Bucky really values this friendship. He isn't sure if pursuing a hypothetical picture in his head is worth putting it at risk. Because he still can't be sure if Steve's interested. For what Bucky knows, he's kind and caring towards all of his friends. It doesn't mean that Bucky and Alex are special. 

He can almost hear Natasha's voice in his head, calling him an idiot and yelling that he won't know until he tries. Which is right, since Natasha always is. It doesn't help him stop the — partially excited but mostly terrified — somersaults his insides make. With a small sigh, he puts the drawing on its place by the lamp, flicks off the lights and burrows himself under the covers. He doesn't have to have everything figured out straight away. Letting himself even consider it is a big enough step for now, he decides as he drifts off to sleep.

.

The next day is Bucky's last day at work before the Christmas break. He doesn't really have much to do, just finishing some last updates and dealing with whatever paperwork he was putting off earlier. Most of the time, he chats with Scott, who has been wandering aimlessly around the institute for the lack of work and eventually landed in Bucky's tiny office. They've been chatting about their Christmas plans — nothing too elaborate for both of them, just simple time at home with their families — and now they started discussing where they should go to grab some lunch. Just as Bucky almost convinced Scott that they should go to this sushi place down the block instead of the Italian place, there's a knock on the door.

Bucky sends his friend a confused look.

"It wasn't me," Scott raises his hands in defence.

"Come in," Bucky calls after another second passes. It's probably someone having a last-minute computer problem or one of his co-workers wanting to drop by with Christmas wishes.

Except, when the door cracks open, Steve's head pokes in. Its hair is messy, its cheeks reddened from the cold and its lips spread in a smile.

"Hi, Buck. And hi Scott, it's nice to see you again," he says. "I'm not interrupting?"

And because Bucky's brain is still processing the fact that for some reason Steve's come to visit him at work, Scott's the one who says, "Not at all, come in."

Steve hesitates for another second. Bucky's brain finally kicks in and he smiles which is apparently the invitation Steve needed, because he finally fully walks into the office.

"Hi, Steve. I didn't expect you here," Bucky says, his smile growing bigger.

"Well, you should. Because after our talk yesterday, I decided to bring you lunch," Steve says, proudly showing a big paper bag in his hand. "I told you you haven't seen shit, and especially not overdramatic me."

This makes Bucky laugh out loud as he shakes his head in disbelief. How is Steve even real?

Scott is watching them with a slightly confused but endeared smile on his face. Before anyone can say anything, he gets up from the chair, slapping his thighs as he does.

"Okay then, I'll leave you to it," he says, walking towards the door.

"There's plenty to share, if you want to join us," Steve offers, because of course he does. His gold-heartedness wouldn't have it any other way.

But Scott only shakes his head at that. "Nah, I'm in the mood for some sushi today. Thanks, though."

"Asshole," Bucky narrows his eyes at Scott. "I hope you'd choke on it."

His friend only laughs at that, "Enjoy your lunch date! It's been great to see you, Steve. Merry Christmas."

"You too, Scott. Say hi to Hope and Cassie from me."

With one last grin aimed at Bucky — and a very pointed look behind Steve's back — Scott leaves them alone. Bucky tries not to dwell on the fact that Steve didn't even bat an eye when Scott called it a lunch date.

"Why should he choke?" Steve asks with a chuckle.

"I've been trying to talk him into going to that sushi place for almost twenty minutes before you came," Bucky sighs and then notices that Steve is still hovering by the door. "Come on, take your coat off and sit down. I can't believe you've brought me lunch."

Steve shrugs off his coat and leaves it on the hanger by the door, next to Bucky's. Today he's wearing a maroon sweater that really suits him and a pair of dark jeans. He pushes his sleeves up before he digs into the bag and Bucky tries not to stare too obviously.

"Someone's got to make sure you eat, since after yesterday I've gotten an idea you're not good at it yourself," Steve says. "Guess it wasn't necessary. Sadly, I don't have sushi but maybe you're in the mood for Thai?"

"Depends on whether you've brought me the dumplings or not," Bucky answers.

Steve laughs in response and takes out one of the boxes and hands it to Bucky. "I did. I also have green curry for you? I hope I remembered correctly that you like it? If not, I'm sorry, we can switch—"

"Steve." Bucky says solemnly, placing his hand on Steve's forearm, to stop him from fumbling with the food. "You not only brought me food but you remembered my favourite after I mentioned it one time. You are an angel. You should hide it better, because you make us mortals look bad."

He's only half joking. Steve does seem like a higher being of some sorts and it's unfair that Bucky's poor heart is supposed to handle it. It doesn't do a great job. Especially not when Steve laughs, his eyes crinkle so much they turn into thin slits.

"And I am the overdramatic one?" Steve asks, unpacking the last things and finally sitting on the chair across from Bucky. He's still smiling but there's a blush colouring his cheeks and creeping down his neck.

Bucky bites the inside of his cheek to contain a grin but the truth is, he's immensely proud of himself for pulling this reaction out of Steve. To stop himself from saying something stupid, he digs into his food.

"By the way, how did you find me here?" Bucky asks, his tongue sticking out a bit in concentration as he fishes for a dumpling with his chopsticks. 

"Clara let me know where your office is, she was very helpful."

Bucky furrows his brows. The surprise makes him drop his dumpling back into the container. "Clara, as in Clara Oswald, our receptionist? How do you know her?"

"I don't. We've chatted for a few minutes and I explained why I'm here and she told me how to get to you."

"Ah, of course it took you about five minutes to charm her and get into a government building just like that," Bucky chuckles.

"I didn't charm anyone! I just politely asked and she helped!"

If it wasn't Steve, Bucky would take it as fake modesty. But the truth is that Steve really seems to be completely oblivious to the effect he has on people. It’s endearing to see him do this.

"So here's when you do your cool space stuff?" Steve asks, changing the subject.

"Here's when the real scientists come searching for help when there's some IT-related issue," Bucky corrects him. "I don't do anything cool. I make sure all the data is where it's supposed to be and that whatever equipment they need is ready and working properly. Or part of it, Scott's an engineer and he takes care of the rest. I do get to read some space facts first hand, though."

"That's still cool space stuff for me," Steve shrugs with a small smile. "What kinds of things are you researching here? Like some particular aspects of outer space, or—?"

Normally Bucky would just give the shortest answer possible. People usually get bored quickly when he starts talking about it. But something in the genuine interest on Steve's face, the way he is looking around the office — which is nothing special, the only nice things are the sky maps and some spaced themed art  — makes Bucky think that maybe Steve wouldn't mind getting the longer answer.

"Well, we mostly study the weather. Both the Earth's and the one in the solar system, like the solar winds and magnetic storms, stuff like that. We study exoplanets and try to discover or guess as much as we can about them," Bucky says. "I helped to create simulations that predicted how they could look like and develop, to see if there's a possibility to inhabit them. We did it by basically dumping all the data we have into an elaborate computer programme and waiting to see what comes out." Bucky laughs and Steve does too, but he has the look of utter fascination on his face as he listens. "And all this helps with some more down-to-earth stuff — pun not intended. Like, we've done tons of studies in climate change."

"That's—," Steve starts when he makes sure that Bucky's done. "All of this sounds incredible. And you're a part of all those amazing things, how great is that?"

Bucky feels that his cheeks start to burn. There's another reason he usually sticks with the short answer. As much as he's proud to be working here and as much as he loves it, the impostor in him always makes sure that he understands the difference between his work and the actual research, analysis and all the heavy lifting that the astronomers do. He helps, of course he does. He does a great job at it, but there's still a difference. And such praise usually makes him squirm uncomfortably.

"And don't even try to get all modest with me again," Steve warns as if he's been reading Bucky's mind. "You've said that you don't do cool space stuff and then admitted that you've helped to create a program to imagine how exoplanets can look and change. So I know you're full of bullshit."

Steve raises an eyebrow in what's supposed to be an unimpressed look but it's not even close. The smile and the curious, bright eyes that are stating right at Bucky are destroying the effect. The blush on Bucky's cheeks only deepens, especially as Steve adds. "I've been impressed before but— Wow. Really, you guys are doing such incredible things here, I can’t wrap my head around it."

"We really do," Bucky agrees, eventually.

The beaming smile Steve sends him feels like a reward Bucky didn't know he deserves.

"So you've always liked space? Or was it an accident that brought you here?" Steve asks.

"No, I've always loved it. It's just so fascinating and there's always so much more to learn about it," Bucky doesn't even try to hide his excitement. "I've never fully understood all the science behind it but I loved staring at the sky, trying to find all those constellations and planets and galaxies. I've figured a way to somehow connect it to what I was good at and make it my job. Which is amazing. But now I mostly stare at the computer screen instead of the stars. "

He doesn't want to sound ungrateful but he must admit that it does kill some of the fun. But not even the astronomers simply state up at the sky to admire the view.

Steve only nods in response. "Alex mentioned that you guys went on a trip out of town to watch the stars. It must've been great."

"We did! It was like… almost 2 years ago, I think? I borrowed one of those fancy telescopes they have here. I needed to pick Alex up every time, cause she was too small to reach it," Bucky laughs as he brings out the memories. "It was fun, we should do that again, sometime. But I don't have much time now, so it’ll have to wait."

"It does sound great," Steve smiles that soft smile again. "I hope you'd find some time as it gets warm enough for such trips. I bet Alex would be delighted."

"Yeah. I'll let you know if that happens, in case you'd like to join," Bucky says before he can think better of it.

There's more of the childlike excitement on Steve's face as Bucky mentions it so maybe it wasn't that bad of an idea.

An actual bad idea comes out of Bucky's mouth a bit later, just as Steve is getting ready to head out. Bucky's lunch break is long gone and forgotten, because it's been two hours that Steve spent here. He apologises for staying so long and the assurances that Bucky didn't have any more work to do doesn't help.

"I'm sorry for taking your mind away from your responsibilities, but it was great spending time with you," Steve says.

So of course, because Bucky's heart doesn't get any chance to regroup, he doesn't have time to think before he blurts out. "We should have dinner together."

It's certainly not something Steve was expecting to hear. He just stares at Bucky. Before he has a chance to say anything, Bucky continues, "I mean. You should come for dinner. Clint and Nat are always around for a dinner, sometime between Christmas and New Year's. If you don't have any plans, it would be great if you came. But it's okay if you can't or don't want to."

Another moment passes and Bucky tries not to squirm under Steve's gaze. Luckily, Steve finally blinks and smiles as he says, "No, Buck, of course I'd love to come! I don't have any particular plans, will probably hang out with Sam for most of the break but I'll have plenty of time."

"You could take Sam with you," Bucky adds. He desperately tries to regain the control of his own mouth. "It'd be great to finally meet him."

"I'll let him know, I bet he’d be happy to come, too. Thanks again for the invite," Steve smiles as he cracks open the door. With a little wave, he walks out of the office. "Bye, Buck. Have a nice day."

"You too, Steve," Bucky says to the already closing door.

When Steve's gone, Bucky exhales heavily through his mouth as he leans back in his chair. Both of his hands go up to thread through his hair, tugging at it lightly.

Apparently, he has a dinner to prepare.

taglist: @steverrogers​ @till-the-end-of-the-line-punk​ @buckyshappyending

[byunsbobobu]

Blood Promise  {Chapter 1}

Vampire Baekhyun AU

Pairing; Twin Baekhyun/BaekBaëk/Alana

Genre; vampire/ fantasy AU

Warnings for this chapter; angst, language, mentions of blood  (smut in future chapters)

Prologue:

Word Count: 3863

 - Synopsis: Vampires falling in love with humans was forbidden. That is until 18-year-old Alana Davis moves to town and attends the new boarding school; Hallows Boarding School. Unaware that vampires exist and that the school is home to both Vampires and humans. On one late night Alana stumbles upon two brooding and mysterious twin brothers, but little did she know they would soon change her life.  Will it be for the worse or the better?}

** authors note; Hello! Welcome to my first chapter of this AU! Now I don’t want this story to be a cliché vampire au, so I challenged myself to make it better for you guys so you will enjoy reading it. This chapter is a little long, and I got a little carried away while writing it, so I apologize for it being so long. Baekhyun unfortunately doesn’t come in until later on in this chapter. Anyways, if anyone would like to be tagged in future updates for this story please let me know in the comments. Thank you! **

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 It was the first day of you starting at new school in a new country. To say you weren’t nervous would be a lie. You were very nervous in fact. Ever since arriving here last night you’ve had this weird feeling something was bound to happen, and you didn’t know whether it was good or bad. Getting up from bed, the soles of your feet touching the cold floor; making your way towards your window. The sunlight behind the curtains beamed through your bedroom. Slowly pushing the curtains open you look outside soaking in the beautiful scenery. Everything was covered in white snow. Glancing down you see what looks like a couple of elder’s drinking coffee and talking outside near the school gates; assuming it’s the staff; you look out into the school taking in the wide landscape of the school. It was surrounded by woods and nothing more. Beyond the gates of the school you couldn’t see a thing, but trees. No sign of life or cars seemed present around the school.  Sighing, you moved away from the window and towards your closet to pick out your clothes for your first day of class. Entering the closet, you turn the light switch on and a surprised gasp escapes past your lips. Your closet was enormous. It housed many shelves inside. You felt like you were living in your dream castle. From the interior decorations in your bedroom, and the beautiful scenery outside your window, and now your enormous closet with so many brands of clothes, shoes and accessories you couldn’t help but contain your excitement. Walking further inside your closet you graze your hand across all the clothes held up on hangers feeling the quality fabric of all the clothes. You soon are face to face with your school uniform. Your uncle had told you that the school had a strict dress code that the students were all supposed to follow. Your uniform was all black. A long-sleeved blouse along with a black skirt that reached mid-thigh; paired with a loose red tie in the front. After putting on your uniform you took it upon yourself to pair it with black tights to help cover your bare legs from the cold winter and cute white dress shoes. Checking yourself in the mirror you head out of the closet. Entering your bathroom. It was elegant. The walls were painted a creamy white color, a beautiful chandelier hung on the ceiling. If the bathroom wasn’t big enough the shower looked like it could fit about 5 people at one time. It was huge. You wondered if everyone in this school had bedrooms that looked like this, or if it was only you since you were the headmaster’s niece. Now, almost quarter to eight you quickly fix your black hair leaving it down; your bangs falling over the front of your face. You decide to apply a light amount of makeup to your milky pale skin. Deciding on just some foundation and a light touch of blush to accentuate your cheeks and a red lip tint you feel like you are all set and ready to start your day. Heading towards the front of your bedroom door grabbing your bookbag and slinging it over your shoulders taking a deep breath and saying to yourself “Here goes nothing” you step out of your room and into the dimly lit corridors of the dorm hallway, and you head off to your first class of the day.

Now mid-afternoon the bells of your last class just about to ring any second now. Your teacher continues rambling on about medieval literature, but you eventually tune yourself out, hand on your chin and slightly pouting you started doodling some random sketches on your notebook. Suddenly you felt a paper ball hit your back. Dropping your pencil on the table you turn around and you are then face to face with a red headed male with big ears, blue contact lenses and smooth milky skin. He had an apologetic look on his face. “Sorry, we didn’t mean to bother you my friend over here is an idiot” He whispered his voice deep while pointing at the culprit who had just thrown a paper ball at you. The male sat beside him across the aisle from where you both were sat. The other male trying to hide the smile off his face had raven black hair. He looked slimmer then the male seated behind you. “It’s okay, don’t worry about it” You smiled at the red-haired male. Smiling he extended his hand out towards you. Taking his hand, you shake it. “I’m Chanyeol and that is Sehun” He says while pointing at Sehun who waves at you, a smug smile on his face. Sehun leaning back against his desk, hands behind his head as his feet are planted on top of the desk. “I’m Alana. Alana Davis” you introduce yourself.

 You scoff at how he chooses to sit. “I haven’t seen you in this class before; are you new?” Chanyeol asks, you nod “Yeah, my uncle is the headmaster of the school.” Chanyeol and Sehun’s eyes widen. “Headmaster Dae is your uncle?” Both now giving each other weird looks. Sehun removes his feet from on top of the desk now facing you in a hunched over position. His has a face of curiosity. “So, you must know…” Sehun speaks. “Know what?” a confused expression on your face. “About the night class students” Chanyeol speaks this time. Pouting your lips, you tilt your head to the side confusion still evident on your face. “What about the night class? What’s a night class?” you ask, questions starting to spill from your lips one after the other. “Soo.. you don’t know??” Sehun speaks again.  “She clearly doesn’t Sehun. Now will you shut up!” Chanyeol mutters under his breath worried that they’ve said too much. Now curious, you wondered what the purpose of a Night Class was, and why your uncle hasn’t told you about this. “Tell me about this… Night Class “you ask them curiosity in your eyes.

Chanyeol lets out an exasperated breath. “Okay, well.. we don’t know much about them” He starts, “but what we do know, is that your uncle is very friendly with the Night Class students.” He continues, this time being cut off by Sehun. “The Night Class students are freaks of nature” He says, “and no one has ever seen one of them…” Suddenly the bell rings signaling the end of class. Both Chanyeol and Sehun get up from their seats. Chanyeol looking like a giant next to Sehun. Fixing their uniforms they start heading towards the door. “Wait!” you call after them. “That’s it?” Their backs facing you they both turn around. “Tell me more?” Looking over at each other, Sehun speaks again. Moving closer to you. He places a hand on your right shoulder bending down so that you and him are now eye level with each other. “Listen kid. If I were you I wouldn’t go looking to be “friends” with the Night Class students. The things I’ve heard about them isn’t quite friendly.” Chanyeol nods. “Yeah, also headmaster doesn’t allow students from Day Class to leave their rooms after dusk.” This perks your interest. Not allowed to leave our rooms after dusk?? You think to yourself. What has uncle Dae been up too lately. Now thinking about it Alana remembers her uncle acting quite strange and quiet last night from when he picked her up from the airport. The eerie feeling, she felt while being around her uncle began to creep up again. Snapping you out of your thoughts Sehun pats your shoulder a slight smile on his lips. “Well.. we should get going now.” He says. Nodding your head Chanyeol speaks this time. “Get back to your dorm Alana. It’s getting late.” He smiles. “It was nice meeting you” He says. “See you next class” They both say at the same time, as they slowly disappear from your field of vision.

  Making my way back to my dorm; my books clutched to my chest. The cold winter air blowing through my hair. It was starting to get a little darker out and all the Day Class students had all gone back to their dorms preparing for the night. My dorm building was hidden farthest from everybody else’s, so it took me longer to walk back. As I’m walking everything around me was silent. Not a single person around, just me and my thoughts. I began to feel a little uneasy walking alone in the middle of the woods, so I started picking up my pace striding towards my building. The wind and the trees were whistling as I passed them. Finally seeing my building coming into view I let out a sigh of relief. “Almost there” I say to myself. Walking even faster. You couldn’t wait to get inside your room and wrap yourself up in some warm blankets. Suddenly you stumble upon a rock and trip falling to the ground. “Shit!” you curse out loud. Getting up and wiping the dirt off your new skirt quickly patting your ass and quickly get back on your feet. You praise god that you were in the middle of the woods and nobody had just seen you trip.. so you thought. Little did you know that two men hidden behind a tree were watching you with hungry eyes.

 Finally, you are now back in your bedroom and you couldn’t be happier. Why your uncle placed you in the farthest building from your classes; you’ll never known. Loosening up your tie from around your neck you make your way to your bed, and  throwing your bookbag on the floor, you plopped down on your bed your back facing up towards the ceiling. You sighed exhausted from your first day of class. You thought back on what Chanyeol and Sehun had told you earlier about the Night Class students. Why did your uncle make a separate class for students? What was he hiding from you? Your head was spinning with thought. Deciding to get up and take a steaming hot shower you make your way towards your bathroom. Stripping off your clothes you step into the shower; letting the water trickle down your body. The feeling of the hot water on your body relaxing you. You thought after you finished showering you would pay your uncle a visit and have a talk with him about what you had heard today.

 Finishing up your shower you step out grabbing your towel and wrapping it around your petite body. Walking out of the bathroom and towards your closet; you turn on the light switch and look for something to wear. You thought you wouldn’t be out long, and since it was approaching dusk; you decided to wear a matching pair of navy-blue silk pajamas. It was very comfortable. You then grabbed a black winter coat putting it on along with some cute fluffy slippers turning off the light; you walk towards the door turning the nob quietly stepping outside the dimly lit corridors once again.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sooner or later you are now standing in front of your uncle’s office. You were hesitant to knock. You thought about forgetting this whole thing and just running back to your dorm, but it was dark out now, and you didn’t want to walk through those creepy wood’s alone. Deciding to knock on the door your knuckles eventually make contact with the door and you start to knock. You knock three times and wait for your uncle to open the door. You feel like you had been standing outside his office for quite some time now. Feelings like he wouldn’t open the door your about to turn around until you hear the sound of a lock on the other side of the door signaling someone was opening the door. Turning back around and facing the front door expecting to see your uncle; you frown. It wasn’t your uncle. You frown quickly changes to surprise and you can’t help, but stare at the man standing in front of you. He’s gorgeous and you suddenly start to fidget. Now nervous standing in front of this man with just your silk pajamas you become self-conscious as he looks over your petite form. The man in front of you had beautiful black hair that was styled in a way that exposed his forehead, and his brown eyes boring into your own.  He wore a black suit with a white turtleneck dress shirt underneath. Averting your gaze from looking at him any longer; you clear your throat and speak. “I-is the headmaster here?” you ask your voice slightly higher due to your nervous state. “I’m his niece, and I just wanted to speak to him.” you continue. The man in front of you now crosses his arms and leans against the door a smirking making its way across his pretty face. “Jongdae never told me he had a niece” the male spoke. You felt paralyzed under his gaze as his eyes scanned you from head to toe making its way back up to your face. “Jongdae isn’t here yet, but your welcome to wait inside if you’d like?” he suggests opening the door wider for you to come in. Feelings uneasy at how the raven-haired man is looking at you; you shake your head and quickly decline. “I-I really shouldn’t. I’m sorry” you stutter out. “Oooh, c’mon he won’t be long. I insist.. Besides” His voiced was laced with danger. Biting his lips; eyes looking down at your form again. You shiver at the way his eyes scan down your body. He looked at you, like he wanted to devour you. “I want to get to know Jongdae’s lovely niece.” A playful smirk on his face. Giving in you step through the door, and into your uncle’s office as the male closes the door behind you. Sitting down on a red leather chair that’s stationed right in front of your uncle’s desk, you quickly and discreetly fix your clothes. Making his way behind the desk he is now standing in front of you as he presses his palms down onto the desk and leans forward a little; a playful smirk still plastered across his face. You wanted to wipe that smirk off his voice. It made you feel hot. He was just watching you squirm under his gaze and you hated the affect he was having on you.

  “Soo.. when is headmaster arriving?” You ask.

 “Soon.” He replies.

 “He’s out having a little late-night snack.” The male licks his lips.

 You nod. “Okay”

 Suddenly Jongdae barges through the door “Baekhyun what did I-“

 He was caught by surprise when he saw you seated in front of the male you assumed to be Baekhyun. “Alana..” Jongdae clears his throat. The side of his lips lightly stained red. Quickly pulling out a handkerchief from his pocket; he wipes the sides of his mouth. He probably just had a burger you thought; due to the fact he had red on the sides of his mouth. “What are you doing out of your room?” he asks. “She wanted to see you Jongdae” Baekhyun smirks. Coming around from the front of the desk Baekhyun is now standing in front of you. Hands behind his back; he bends down so close to you, his breath nearly fanning your face tilting his head to the side examining your face you both are now staring into each other’s eyes; he speaks. “I’m a little disappointed you never told me you had a niece.” Baekhyun says. Jongdae had a horrified expression written all over his face. He looked angry that Baekhyun and I had been in the same room.. alone, but why?

 Moving away from hovering over you Baekhyun slowly walks over to Jongdae’s side, leaning forward and whispers in his ear. “She smells..” Baekhyun inhales a deep breath exhaling seconds later. “Delicious” The words roll off his tongue so smoothly and Jongdae stiffens. “I don’t know how you control yourself around her when her blood smells sooo…SWEET.” Baekhyun says, putting an emphasis on the last word. Baekhyun was still whispering into Jongdae’s ears so that you wouldn’t be able to hear what he was saying.

 As if you didn’t have enough surprises today the door slams open and in walks another male. You gasp. Your eyes moving to the figure walking in. You couldn’t believe what you were seeing. Another male, but this male resembled the male standing besides Jongdae. Twins! You thought to yourself. Except this one had no sort of emotion on his face. He looked scary, and you didn’t want to risk making him angry anytime soon. Although he looked extremely intimidating he was still just as beautiful as Baekhyun. But unlike Baekhyun his brother had silver white hair that fell down his face, but not too long that you couldn’t see his cold blue eyes. He wore a black leather suit that hugged his body nicely and a face chain. He was extremely hot you thought to yourself. You cowered in your seat as he approached Jongdae and Baekhyun.

 “Baekhyun let’s go we got some business to take care of!” He spoke his voice stern and assertive. Unlike Baekhyun his brother didn’t even give you the time of day to look at you. “Brother” Baekhyun moves away from Jongdae and smiles up at him. Turning his gaze back towards me. “Have you met Jongdae’s niece” Baekhyun’s eyebrows were slightly raised and that goddamn smirk still on his face.

 His brother turns his sharp gaze towards you. As soon as you met his cold stare you froze in your seat. He didn’t even show somewhat of a smile on his face. All he did was scan his eyes down my body once and turned back around facing Baekhyun. Grabbing his brother by his ear he drags Baekhyun out of the office; both of them giving you one last look before they were gone. Letting out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding in. Looking over at Jongdae still standing by the door; his arms crossed he had a scowl on his face. He looked pissed. Giving him an innocent smile; you spoke.

  “I- I- I didn’t know you weren’t going to be here.” You began.

 “If I had I wouldn’t have come.” You continued, lowering your head and staring at the carpeted floor. His excruciating stare piercing through you.

 “You don’t know these people Alana.” Jongdae sighed and began to speak

 “You could’ve gotten hurt.” He continued

 “But I didn’t.” You said back to him.

 “And besides Baekhyu- “

 You started to say, but was off by her uncle. Don’t you dare speak about them to me.” He was furious now. “You don’t know what those two brothers are capable of.” He stated. “Who are they?” you asked clearly interested in the alluring mysterious twin brothers who seemed to have caught your attention so quickly. Letting out a long sigh Jongdae speaks. “They’re the Byun twins. They go by Baekhyun and Baëkhyun.” He said answering your question. “I don’t want you to ever come out of your dorm at night again! Do you hear me?” your uncle says. “And I don’t want you to speak to the Byun twins either! Their dangerous. Understood?” He asks.You nod. “Yes, I understand”

 “I think you should get back to your dorm now… Before it gets even later.” He says. “Do you think you could walk back on your own?” He asks. Clearly having forgotten about why you came to his office in the first place you nod. “Yes, uncle Dae! I’ll be fine.” You smiled finally standing up from your seat walking over to him and wrapping your arms around his neck and giving him a hug. “I’m sorry I made you worry” You told him. “It won’t happen again.” Jongdae now hugging you back; his face nuzzled in the crook of your neck breathing in your scent. Feeling the pulse on your neck beating rather quickly his gums begin to swell signaling his fangs wanting to come out he pulled away rather quickly. Alana didn’t know that her uncle too was dangerous to be around; just like the Byun twins, but she would never find out his secret he thought.

 “You should go” He spoke, his hands placed on both your shoulder as he stood in front of you his voice laced with concern and a bit of sadness; you wondered why?

 Nodding you start making your way towards the door of his office. Before leaving you turn around giving him an innocent smile and telling him goodnight. Finally stepping out of his office you start walking towards the exit of the building. “Fuck!” you cursed to yourself. You forgot you had to walk through the woods to get back to your dormitory. Wrapping your coat around your body tightly you step outside into the cold night walking ahead to your dorm room.

 You were just about to make a turn into the woods when you hear rustling sounds and what sounds like whispering close by. Curious you quietly start walking towards the sound. You stop when you suddenly see what looks like two males. Unable to see one hundred percent because of the darkness you move a little closer squinting your eyes. You are now hidden behind a tree watching them; accidentally stepping on a branch it cracks causing the two males’ eyes to meet your own. You gasp when you realize who they were.

 It was the Byun twins and they had what looked like blood all over their hands…

Shocked at what you had just witnessed you slowly began to run off into the wood’s away from them and back to the safe confinement of your room.

 “What did I just witness?” you thought to yourself as you kept running through the woods. 

[werejusttouchingeachother]

SEOUL 2018 [August 10th, 4:27PM]

Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 T/W: angst - mentions of abuse, depression, suicide, cursing Words: 4171

It was almost two months later when you finally met Baekhyun again after the night he left New York. He’d been at the dorms and you’d felt more terrified than you had been when you first launched your boutique.

Manager had ushered you inside quickly, immediately making you feel awkward as your eyes met Junmyeon and Sehun who were sitting on the couch and watching something on the television.

“Y/N,” Junmyeon called your name in surprise as he quickly stood up, wide eyes exchanging glances with Manager behind you. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“I don’t think anyone did, Hyung,” Sehun mutters, giving you a small smile. “Hi, Noona. It’s been a long time. I missed you.”

You smile fondly at that, tense shoulders loosening at his contagious warmth. “I missed you too, Sehun.”

“I’m mad at you, though.” He crossed his arms. “You never called. Or responded to my texts.”

You flinched, expecting this accusation from the youngest member who’d always had the most fun teasing you and who you knew would take your silent treatment the hardest—not when you’d spent days and nights sending each other funny memes and pictures of dogs with bad haircuts almost on a daily basis only to suddenly ghost him.

“Yeah, I just…” you trail off and shake your head, knowing excuses were in vain. “I’m sorry. I should have replied.”

Sehun blinks at your sincere apology, not having expected it and his face clouds over with worry at your seriousness.

“Sehun,” Jun says, nudging him. “You can catch up with her later.” He gives you a meaningful look as he asks, “Y/N, aren’t you here to—?”

“Yeah, I’ll go check,” Manager says, turning to your left in the direction of the rooms. You grab his arm to stop him.

“Does he…?” You trail off and Manager hesitates before nodding.

“I told him that you landed here today morning.” He pauses before saying, “I think he’s expecting you.”

You waited in the hallway then as all the members slowly filed out of their rooms, giving you polite formal smiles (Jongin, Yixing and Jongdae), wary looks (Minseok and Kyungsoo) or blatantly ignored your presence (Chanyeol).

You didn’t say anything. If any of them knew what had exactly happened, you were sure that it had to be Chanyeol.

All of them joined Junmyeon and Sehun in the hall, the farthest room from Baekhyun’s to give you as much privacy as they could within a dormitory. Bowing your head in thanks, you walk past Manager and head for the right door at the end of the hallway.

Taking a deep breath, you raise your hand and knock gently on the door. You can hear the silence of the usually noisy dorm and it doesn’t help the way your heart is pounding against your rib-cage, your stomach twisting with anxiety.

The door opens then and your breath catches as your eyes fall on Baekhyun.

His hair is dishevelled and his clothes are drabby, hanging off him in a way that you knew all too-well that he had been wearing them for a while. His cheeks are hollow and your eyes run over his clothes, growing frustrated when you realise they’re too large to figure out whether he’d lost weight.

“You haven’t been eating,” Baekhyun says, his tone flat and your eyes fly back up to his face in surprise. You feel your skin rise with goosebumps at hearing his voice after so long and your eyes sting with unshed tears that you have to forcibly blink back.

“I…” You clear your throat before raising an eyebrow at him. “Neither have you. Your face has grown thinner.”

“What is this, a competition?” He rolls his eyes, stepping away to let you in.

“If it is, nobody is winning!” You hear Sehun shout from the hall, making you roll your eyes.

“Sehun, shut up!” Baekhyun yells as he closes the door behind him. You bite your lip as you look around the familiar room that was almost a home to you at one point—a point that seemed entirely too long ago now.

“Did you wear lipstick? Or did you chew it all off?” Baekhyun asks, pointing out your usual nervous habit and your gaze shifts back to him as he sits in his gaming chair, opposite the bed that looked unusually tidy.

He hasn’t been sleeping.  

“Did you sleep at all this past week?” You shoot back, crossing your arms as you sit down on the bed and cock your head at the neatly made sheets. “Or leave that seat? How long have you been gaming in those clothes?”

“Why do you care?” Baekhyun snaps and you sigh, leaning back as you square your shoulders and remind yourself not to follow his childish antics.

“I didn’t come here to fight, Baek,” you start, trying to gather your thoughts. “I—”

“Y/N.” His voice is sharp enough that you stop, eyebrows rising as he inhales deeply before saying, “If you’re here to break up, just leave. I haven’t processed a lot since New York but I’m not numb enough that I can sit here and listen to you end everything. Being here in Korea must be killing you anyway so just leave and I’ll consider it the end. Let’s not make this any harder than it—”

“Shut the fuck up, Baekhyun,” you snap, eyes narrowed in disbelief as you gape at him. “Is that what you want to do? New York to be our last conversation? Just leave a two-years-long relationship like this?” You shake your head, holding up your hand to stop whatever he was going to say as you interrupted, “I’ll leave soon, don’t worry. As soon as I’m done telling you what I have to tell you.”

He falls silent, eyes watching you carefully and you take a breath before starting. “I told you something that night two months ago. Before you said that I shouldn’t be feeling that way. Something about my childhood. Do you remember?”

Baekhyun nods slowly. “You said that you’ve never been enough for your parents from when you were young. And I made you feel like that again, yeah, that’s burned into my memory, don’t worry.”

You shake your head, shooting him a look. “That first part, yes. The second part, no. This is what I flew out here to tell you, face-to-face. What I should have told you that night.”

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip as you take a second to muster the courage to say what you’re going to say. Baekhyun immediately notices your hesitation, his eyes clouding with worry at the obvious storm raging inside your mind right now.

It almost makes you smile—the fact that he could still read you like an open book. Despite all the pain, all the misunderstanding, all the conflicting emotions that were stirred up amongst both of you, he still worried about you, your thoughts, your nervous habits and your weight.

“My parents came from well-reputed families,” you started, leaning back against the wall. “It was an arranged marriage, a union that was more of a business deal than that of love. They weren’t chaebols or anything but they were well-off and had a long uninterrupted line of sons on my father’s side that always took over the business and carried it forward.”

Baekhyun’s face falls at this, already knowing where this was headed as you continued, “They wanted a boy. When I was born, it was more of a shock than anything. They tried a lot for a second child but my mother had some health issues and there were complications. So they were stuck with me and I was… never enough. I did everything they wanted me to do, always obeying their insane rules and never had any fun the way other kids did. I used to draw a lot from when I was a kid and they would rip my drawings apart, throw my colours away. I’d get into trouble if I didn’t do the homework or scored anything less than hundred on tests. I used to cry at school and my teacher told me that they do it because they love me, because they care. That most parents are strict so the kids will grow to be really smart.”

“So I studied hard. Began to buy separate notebooks to draw in and hide them where they wouldn’t find them. I lived by the rules they made, all through middle school and high school—it was always hell, I was always wishing to get away. I never even dared to like someone as a teenager because I feared what would happen at home if they found out. I didn’t have any friends because they discouraged it, said it was a distraction. They’d decided on the day of my birth that since I couldn’t take over the business, I’d follow the highest position for a woman—medicine. Their words, not mine. So then, I joined medical school and when I had to draw more bodies and organs than the clothes that went on it, I snapped. I had a phase where I stopped attending classes, where I failed all the exams and almost got suspended. It was a highly prestigious school so they called in my parents and they paid heftily to keep me at school, promising that I’d make up for it.”

You pause then, lowering your head and taking a breath since the next thing was particularly difficult to voice out loud.

“That was the second time my father hit me,” you say in a hoarse voice, clearing your throat before continuing, “The first time was in elementary when they found my doodles for the first time on my books. The teacher had sent a note to them, suggesting to join an art class because I drew more than I wrote notes and they beat me till I was black and blue. They told me that art was for idiots, that things like drawing, writing, acting and singing would never get me anywhere in life. After that was when I started my preparation for medical school. After I failed that too, I thought they would understand then or at least try. But they beat me again. And I thought I’d kill myself so, I ran away from home.”

You glance at him, smiling slightly. “That time we were at Tokyo, you were so surprised when I didn’t want to take pictures together under the cherry blossom trees. It’s not because I was cold that night—it’s because cherry blossoms always reminds me of that night I ran out in Korea. They were all I could see when I looked up and they were so pretty that it felt like they were mocking me. That was the first time I wished I could look up at the sky and see the Eiffel Tower, wish that I could be at Paris where I could draw freely and just live for myself.”

“And that’s when I realised that I was going to kill myself when I hadn’t ever lived. Not once, not even for a day, had I lived for myself. It was always for my parents and they never even appreciated my efforts or tried to understand me.”

You look up then, smiling although you couldn’t see him because your eyes were tearing up. “The only time that I lived was when I designed. I had nothing to lose. There was no one to please so I thought I’d fully meet the criteria of such a worthless disappointing child. I started dreaming about Paris and my boutique—I started dreaming of skies where I could look up and see the Eiffel.”

Baekhyun’s expression is unreadable but you continue, “You know the rest from here. I lied about going for classes and instead worked many part-time jobs. I saved up just enough money for one of the cheapest flights to Paris but it wasn’t enough, of course not. I got kicked out of school and I didn’t wait to get kicked out of home too—I used all the money I’d saved to move out instead and started working at Korea. Three years later, about the time all my friends were graduating from college, I finally had enough to go to Paris. For seven months, I struggled and starved and almost died because of how poor I was before my designs finally caught the eye of someone who saw my potential. I became his apprentice.”

You take a deep breath and grabbed the pillow from his bed, hugging it in your lap because your hands were shaking.

“I have a lot of issues with my parents, Baekhyun,” you state aloud, looking at him. “My childhood was traumatic for me and there’s a lot that I’ve been suppressing from when I was a kid. I’m insecure when people show me affection because I’m not used to receiving it, I have anxieties about whether they will leave so I think I should leave first because I always tend to think I don’t deserve whatever love I get. Seoyeon is a clear example of that as my only friend—the only one I’ve trusted enough to get close to me.”

“I moved out of the apartment after you left.” His eyebrows rise at this and you explain, “It felt lonelier when you were gone. It was too big and memories kept haunting me, I was always going crazy with my own thoughts so I decided to move into a smaller place.”

You paused then, inhaling softly as you felt your shoulders lighten like you’d just lifted a burden, one that had been weighing down on you for almost all your life. Feeling your heart race slightly because of the next thing you were going to say, you mentally prepared yourself for all the negative possibilities before continuing.

“I’m going for therapy,” you declare, watching his eyes widen in surprise at this. “Seoyeon told me that if I never deal with my past, it’s always going to affect any relationship that I have. I started almost as soon as you left and all these things I told you, Baekhyun, they’re-they’re just the surface of it. You know that I hate coming back to Korea even though you didn’t know exactly why. Same with the cherry blossom trees. There’s a lot more that I can’t tell you, a lot that I can only tell my therapist because it’s difficult for me to admit it openly, even to myself. But at the same time, these are the things I should have talked to you about, like you told me that night at New York. I let my insecurities get to my head and projected it onto you which was unfair.”

You place the pillow back and stand up then, looking down at him.

“I understand and accept everything you said that night,” you state, Baekhyun gazing up at you unblinkingly. "We don’t have to go public. We never do. I don’t care about that and I don’t think I ever did. The party that night, the way everyone was so welcoming… it made me question if I was even worth standing around such people. If I was worthy of your love and care.”

“And that is not your fault, Baekhyun,” you clearly enunciate, knowing he was going to interrupt with the opposite statement. “Those are just my fears stemming from my shitty childhood. Apparently my first instinct when shown love is to fight and then flee. But I know now that it’s not a matter of worth—you’ve only loved and cared for me, unconditionally, even when I’ve been closed off and so difficult.”

“I…” You trail off, heavy emotion weighing down on your chest suddenly and making you choke on your words as you hoarsely say, “I’ve only known darkness, Baekhyun, so when you shone down on me with all your light, I got blinded. I was an idiot and I fucked up something that was beautiful and the best thing that ever happened to me. But I can see clearer now for the first time in my life and I know better. And I know that I love you. So much that I am even willing to be mysterious Mrs. Byun X forever. No one has to know about us or me and I couldn’t care less.”

You take a breath then, meeting his gaze. “I’m opening the door again, Baek. And I’m giving you the same option I did last time except now, I can promise you that I do not care about being hidden and I also promise to try and fight my demons from wrecking what we have. If we have it again.”

Baekhyun blinks at you, pouty lips parted open as he gapes at you like a fish and you nod, stepping to the door slowly.

“You don’t have to answer right now,” you reassure him, forcing yourself to smile even though you were beyond terrified. “I know it’s a lot to take at once. Manager has the address of my hotel and I’m staying for a week. Or you can just text me, if you don’t want to see me. He has my number too.”

Baekhyun doesn’t say a word and you feel your heart crack slightly in your chest as you nod, biting down on your lip and turn to the door.

Swallowing heavily, you mutter, “Goodbye, Bae—”

You’re spun around by a death grip on your arm then, eyes widening as you look up at Baekhyun standing right in front of you.

“No,” he said, shaking his head as he dragged you back to the bed. He placed his hands on your shoulders and pushed you down forcibly, ordering, “Sit.”

“How can you leave like that?” Baekhyun asked, disbelief colouring his tone. “I didn’t even speak yet.”

You blink at his glare, stammering, “I mean-I just-I didn’t want you to feel pressured—”

“Y/N, it’s been two fucking months,” he snorts, shooting you a look. He retrieves his hands from your shoulders and lowers himself to the floor at your feet.

“You know that you can just sit beside me?” You ask, glaring down at him as a sudden memory flashes vividly in your mind. “Or back on that seat across from me?”

He shrugs as he sits cross-legged, looking up at you. The room’s light was right behind you and it shone down right on his face that made it look like he had stars in his eyes and you wondered if it was bright enough to hurt him.

“I want to look at you,” he says quietly.

“You’re sitting the same way you did that night,” you remind him softly, biting down on your lip.

His eyebrows furrow in confusion before he realises, eyes softening as he takes your hand from your lap slowly.

“I’m not leaving this time,” Baekhyun assured you gently, giving you a small smile as he played with your fingers. He raises his other hand to your face and tugged your lower lip loose from your teeth, shaking his head at you and giving you a warning look, the way he always used to whenever you kept gnawing at your lips.

He sits back and gives you a cheeky smile then. “Technically, I can’t. You came here to the dorms so I don’t really have anywhere to go from here—”

“I missed you,” you blurted, unable to stop yourself. His smile freezes at your words and you blink back the tears gathering furiously as you corrected in a softer tone, “I miss you.”

“Me too,” he murmurs, intertwining your fingers together. He grips your hand tightly and seems to struggle as he forces the next words out, “I’m sorry that I wasn’t there for you. Therapy and dealing with everything from your past can’t have been easy. I should have been there, I shouldn’t have left—”

“Baek, no,” you grab his hand holding yours with your other hand, shaking your head vehemently at him. “It’s good that you did. I needed to get my shit together—about me, about us. I needed to do it, it was time.”

He looks into your eyes, voice meek as he asks, “Are you okay?”

You start to nod and he tightens his grip on your hand again as he repeats, “No, Y/N. Really… are you okay?”

You pause, swallowing slightly as you look down at both your hands. “It’s… a lot. There’s a lot that I’m remembering and reliving that I don’t want to. But that’s how I can make peace with it, how I can stop—” You take a shaky breath, choking as you finish, “—stop hurting myself. And stop myself from hurting you.”

“Oh, god, Y/N.” Baekhyun lets go of your hands then, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. You still at the sudden unexpected embrace and he pulls you down from the bed onto his lap, hugging you tightly to him.

Your entire body seems frozen as you find yourself on the floor with him, his arms clutching you tightly to him.

“Baek,” you whisper, practically trembling in his arms when you feel his warmth singe into your skin. He is as warm as you remember him and when his scent, your instant comforter, flooded your nose after missing it for what felt like forever—you’re almost ready to cry.

He pulls away to look at you, shaking his head as he whispers, “Please don’t cry, baby, it kills me.”

His hands cup your face and you close your eyes, leaning into his touch as you sigh softly. You open your eyes and almost melt when you see the way he’s staring at you.

It reminded you of Paris—the way he looked at you every night when he said ‘goodbye’ at the door of your hotel room, a gaze that lingered and that you were reluctant to break away from.

Despite saying it already, you repeat, “I miss—”

Baekhyun closes the gap between your mouths, his plush lips pressing against yours tenderly as he held your face in his hands. You closed your eyes, responding instantly while your hands fist into the front of his shirt, clutching him tightly as if you were afraid he’d slip away.

He kisses you back just as fervently, holding you gently as if he didn’t want to break you. The kiss tastes as sweet as the first, your heart thudding against your chest and butterflies erupting in your stomach as if it was your first time.

You pull away to breathe with your eyes still closed and he presses his forehead against yours, feeling your breaths intermingle. Your eyelids flutter open and his thumb wipes a stray tear that had streaked down your cheek.

“I missed you too,” he breathes, pressing another kiss to your mouth. He lingers before pulling away, lowering his hands from your face as his eyes meet yours with determination before muttering, “Fuck it.”

You blink. “What?”

“Fuck it. I love you. We’ll make it through this, through everything—my job, your past, everything. We walked into this thinking our biggest problem would be the distance and we’ve overcome that. It’s… it’s fine. I can’t lose you again, Y/N. These two months have been hell, I’ve just been going crazy in here.” Baekhyun takes in a shaky breath, grabbing your hands from his chest and staring at your joined fingers. “Hyungnim told me that you needed some space and I thought it was over so I broke down but then he told me to wait, that you just needed some time. I thought you’d made your decision and the reason you weren’t reaching out was because you didn’t want to… be with me anymore.”

You shake your head and lean forward, kissing him. “That’s not… you know I can’t leave you, Baekhyun.”

“Then don’t.”

You smile, nodding slightly. “I won’t.” You hesitate, biting your lower lip as you ask timidly, “Does this mean that you’re walking in through the open door again?”

He smiles then, cheeks puffing and eyes shining as he replies, “Well, you know what they say. Love is an open door.”

“Literally betrayed her and left her to die but okay, Hans,” you tease and he rolls his eyes.

“Fine.” He grins, releasing your hands and wrapping his arms around your middle, pulling you into his chest. “Then… oh, right. Paris. Love is your open arms.”

You roll your eyes teasingly, snorting, “Always so cheesy.”

“Shut up, you love it.” Baekhyun drops a kiss on the top of your head and you close your eyes, smiling at how much you’d missed the gesture—genuinely smiling with your heart feeling full for the first time in months. Your veins that had gone numb after so much time apart finally felt alive, filling with the ethereal golden rays as he basked you in his contagious warmth.

Your sunshine.

[allthingsfangirl101]

RA&L Chapter 2: Silent Treatment

Masterlist

Something about the new kid bugged me. Maybe it was his attitude. Maybe it was his pompous way of walking around the center like he owned the place. Or maybe it was what he said in the music room yesterday.

I guess if I really cared who this guy was, I'd google him. But I didn't. I had other things to worry about in my life, more important than some jackass who thinks he's too cool to receive help.

"We keep running into each other."

I sighed as I looked up from my book to see the new guy smiling oddly at me.

"I'm Dylan," he introduced. He waited for me to say something, but I just stared at him.

"And you are?"

"She has an appointment she is running late to," Evan said suddenly appearing behind me, saving me. I nodded as I closed my book and walked towards my therapist's office. As I walked away, I could feel Dylan's eyes on me as Evan whispered something to him.

                       * * * * *

"Good morning, Adeline." Doctor Hailey smiled as I walked in. I nodded as I sat down in the chair across from her.

I started picking lint off my leggings as I waited for her to get my whiteboard and her notes ready. I looked up as she put the whiteboard and a purple marker on the coffee table in front of me. I grabbed them and immediately started spinning the marker in my hand.

"So, are you still having pains when you wake up?"

I uncapped the marker and started writing.

"Sometimes. I guess it depends on whether or not I drank enough water the night before."

"And did you drink enough last night?"

"Yes."

"Good," she smiled at me before writing something down in her notes. I wiped off the few sentences and started doodling in the corner.

"I see you are still wearing your scarf around your neck. Still trying to hide the scars."

I nodded, still not looking up from my doodling.

"You could try taking it off. At least around me or Evan. You know us and we know you. We would never judge you."

"It's your job not to." I held the board up for her, smiling teasingly. She cracked a smile as she laughed.

"That may be true," she chuckled. "But the other patients won't either. Have you tried to make any friends since the last time we spoke?"

I looked up at her and shook my head. "Honey," she sighed. "We agreed that you would try."

"Kind of hard to do that when I can't actually speak."

She gave me a knowing look before putting her notes in her lap, folding her hands over them. "You talk to me just fine. I keep telling you to take that whiteboard with you. I know Evan can read lips and facial expressions, but most people can't."

I just shrugged, going back to doodling. "Della," she said gently. I slowly looked up at her, biting my bottom lip. "I know it's hard. The accident made you lose your ability to speak. I understand how difficult it is, especially since you can no longer sing."

Tears threatened to stream down my cheeks as I quickly looked towards the door. That was my silent way of telling her if she kept talking about that, I was going to leave.

"Della," she sighed. "We need to discuss that sooner or later."

"I choose later." I wrote. I smiled cheekily as I held the whiteboard up.

"You'll never get better, bottling everything up."

"It's easier," I started to write. I quickly erased it and wrote, "I know" instead.

"I saw that," she smirked playfully at me. "How are your PT appointments going?"

"Good. I guess."

"Any improvements?"

"Don't know. Evan did some tests last time. They're still waiting on the results."

"When is the next day you're able to use your voice?"

"Not for a couple more days."

"How often are you able to speak? It depends on a test, right?"

"Yes. Every Sunday, I sit through an ultrasound. Depending on the results, they decide when I can speak."

"And how was the ultrasound yesterday?"

"4."

"Out of 10?" She asked. I nodded, slowly erasing the low number from my whiteboard. "Well, I know you had to skip last week so that's a big improvement. It's improving. You're improving."

I shrugged, understanding that she was just trying to make me feel better. She saw the look on my face, her eyes softening.

"I think that's a good place to stop for today," she said, closing her notes. I stood up and handed her the whiteboard and marker.

"Keep it." She smiled when I still held it out for her. "Della, keep it. Just carry it around in case you need something or want to actually have a conversation with someone. You never know."

I sent her a look before sighing and lowering my hands. I tucked the marker into my back pocket and held the whiteboard at my side as I walked out of her office. I looked around, not wanting to go back to my room.

"A milkshake sounds perfect right now," I thought as I turned down the hallway, opposite of the dorms.

The center has a diner attached. You can get anything from burgers and milkshakes to tacos. It doesn't cost anything and it gives the patients the feeling of being somewhere else.

It was my favorite place to take my computer and write. I practically had real estate on the booth in the corner and a specific bar stool on the end.

I was sitting on my bar stool sipping a milkshake, slightly doodling on my whiteboard as I listened to music with only one headphone in. My mindless work was interrupted when someone sat on the barstool next to me. I ignored them as I continued trying to distract myself.

"What can I get you?" Asked Janet, the waitress.

"I'll have a chocolate milkshake." Even without looking at him, I could hear the smirk in his voice. I looked up as Janet walked back into the kitchen.

"So," he cleared his throat. I looked over at him, no expression on my face. "I'm Dylan," he smirked. "Remember?"

Wait, is he trying to flirt with me right now? That's just sad. First day at a rehab center and are already trying to hook up with any girl who has legs.

"What's your name?"

I tried really hard not to scowl. I guess I shouldn't be too angry with him, considering the fact that he just got here. But still.

You should learn that around here, you can't just walk up and start talking to people. We all have a reason we are here and we all know to leave other peoples' pasts alone.

"Playing hard to get," he teased as Janet handed him his milkshake. I bit my lip when I noticed her sending him a disapproving look that he didn't catch. "I like the chase."

Janet switched her glance at me as Dylan looked me up and down. I looked up at her to reassure her that I was okay. I then looked back over at him, not hiding when I turned around and rolled my eyes.

"Fiesty," he whispered. "Well, in order for me to properly chase you, I need you to tell me your name."

I bit my lip, holding in the tears as he slowly started getting annoyed with how I still wasn't answering. "Come on," he laughed, his frustration building. "Just tell me your name. I'll even take first name only."

I started chewing on my lip, praying he would drop it and walk away. He didn't.

"Seriously?" He scoffed when I hadn't told him my name. I finally looked over at him, unable to hide the tears anymore.

"O'Brien."

We both jumped at Evan's harsh voice. Evan sent me a soft look before glaring at Dylan. He walked over and gently put his hand on my back, turning towards Dylan.

"Why don't we leave her alone, alright?" He phrased it like a question, but it sounded more like a command.

Dylan looked between Evan and I like he was trying to figure us out. Evan cleared his throat, sending Dylan a warning look. I heard Evan sigh before tightening his arm around my waist before finally letting me go. I held in a laugh as Evan grabbed Dylan's shirt and practically dragged him away from me.

"Let's go, Hollywood."

Hollywood?

[gayboy-selfships-archive]

It’s Not About the Money Anymore (A Waylon Smithers x Self Insert Fiction) Chapter Three

Last / Next

The next day, Waylon was expected to arrive before Audrey was even awake. So at four in the morning, after a sleepless night of staring at his microwave, Smithers dragged himself away from the table and into the shower. With the way he sluggishly moved through his morning routine, he was impressed to find that he had made it to the manor in time, that morning's news newspaper in hand. He was once again let into the house by Mrs. Diane who was the one to show him to Audrey’s private quarters.

He quietly slipped into the master bedroom, not quite ready to wake Audrey and fill the atmosphere with an icy chill. He glanced around the room, committing the details to memory. The first thing that caught his eye was a large pile of stuffed animals, some he recognized from when they were kids, their fur matted and worn, their once bright, playful color diminished. But others were new and looked soft to the touch, like they had just been bought yesterday. Waylon continued his gaze to the large bed that contained a very small (at least in comparison) Audrey. Waylon watched Audrey sleep for a long minute, liking their peaceful expression much more than the icy glare he had become accustomed to looking at. He looked so much more like the child he was used to when he was sleeping. Waylon made his way to the window and on his way passed by a desk in the corner of the room. He rolled his eyes, of course Audrey would bring work to his bedroom. 

But, upon further inspection, Smithers realized that all the paper on his desk was actually piles upon piles of sketches. He paused, one hand on the curtain, and studied the drawings. He recognized many of the people in the pictures as employees from around the manor and the office. He smiled, Audrey had always loved doodling as a kid, it was nice to know that he hadn't given up on that. 

The last thing he noticed was a framed picture, he knew he shouldn’t touch anything but the sight of the picture filled him with such curiosity, he picked it up for closer inspection. He recognized the photograph instantly. Audrey was ten and Waylon was twelve, they were laying in the grass together and playing with Malibu Stacy dolls. They both had wide smiles on their faces, like they had been caught mid laugh. He had remembered his mother had taken the picture and he had pestered her for days asking over and over again when it would be developed. And when his mother finally handed him the photo, he stole the nicest pen he could find from Mr. Burns’ office and in his nicest handwriting wrote, “see you next summer!”

He remembered riding his bike all the way to this very manor, the picture and his most prized Malibu Stacy doll securely in the basket. And he had given them to Audrey as things to remember him by before he went overseas to boarding school. 

He had counted the days till summer, often pestering his mom or even Mr. Burns about how long it would be until Audrey returned home. And when that glorious day finally came, he was so happy to finally see his friend again…

Only to be informed that Audrey wouldn’t be home for a very, very long time.

He never saw him again after that. Not until just a few days ago, of course.

“Smithers, did you ever plan on waking me up? Or just on snooping through my things?”

Waylon let out a yelp, nearly jumping out of his skin as he became aware of a very disgruntled Audrey standing behind him. In his fear he let the frame fall to the floor with a soft crack. 

“Oh! Mr. Stellaluceat! I’m so sorry. I got distracted.”

Audrey frowned, watching Smithers with an unreadable expression.

“Clearly.” He sighed, bending down to pick up the frame.

Waylon could hear the soft tinkle of broken glass as Audrey gently freed the photograph from the broken frame. His frown deepened as he studied the worn photo, though if he was anything more than slightly bothered, he didn’t show it.

“Smithers, when you go down to fetch my breakfast, please ask one of the maids to bring up a vacuum. Oh, and tell the staff I’ll be having my tea in the blue tea cups today.”

Waylon nodded, “I’m sorry about the frame, sir.”

“No need to worry about it, I can buy a replacement. Though do try and keep your hands to yourself in my bedroom. I keep my most prized possessions in here.”

Waylon nodded, unable to dismiss the gnawing feeling of guilt as he collected Audrey’s breakfast and informed the cleaning staff about the mess upstairs. He felt bad, having a photo that old exposed to the elements could be harmful. Perhaps he could get him a new frame tonight after work. Yes, that would be just the thing. The knot in his stomach eased as he knocked on the bedroom door with Audrey’s breakfast. 

“Come in.”

When Waylon stepped inside, he was surprised to see that Audrey wasn’t around.

“Set the food on the desk, I’m in the closet,” came his voice from a door to Waylon's right.

Smithers did what he was told and waited patiently by the desk until Audrey stepped out of his closet. He always felt so silly standing around waiting for his bosses to finish something, he felt like a lackey. Though he supposed that’s exactly what he was.

When Audrey finally stepped out of the closet, it took all of Waylons self control not to let his jaw drop. Like, he had to remember to breathe when he saw what Audrey was wearing. It reminded him of something out of a vampire movie, but not a vampire movie that any straight person would ever put together. 

Everything hugged his frame perfectly, from his blood red undershirt, to the grey corset-vest he wore on top of it. His lace up boots led all the way up to his knees and the heels ended up lifting him a good inch taller. Waylon gulped, trying to lower his gaze away from his boss but his eyes only ended up caught on his thighs.

“Smithers?”

“Oh! Um, yes?” Pull yourself together man!

“I asked if you told a maid to bring up a vacuum?”

“Yes, sir.”

Audrey nodded approvingly and turned to his breakfast, leaving Waylon to scold himself for getting carried away so easily. Though he supposed it was bound to happen when he sexually repressed himself for years on end, pining after a man who barely saw him as human.

“Smithers? Have you eaten breakfast yet?” Audrey asked, scooping an egg onto a piece of toast, “Who am I kidding, you look like you haven’t eaten a real meal in eons, here.”

He handed him the toast, not giving him much of an option, not that Waylon minded. The food smelled amazing and well, he hadn’t had breakfast. He ate everything that was handed to him, which earned him a smile from Audrey.

“I’d prefer it if you took care of yourself. If it means I have to feed you myself so be it.”

“Well, I appreciate it, sir.”

“It’s no problem. I can’t have my assistant collapsing on me.”

Audrey shot a glance at his watch and sighed.

“Come on, we have to be in the boardroom in thirty.”

And with that they left, side by side.

The rest of the day was busy, but it went by in a blur for Waylon. All he could think about was, even if it was in his own little way, Audrey still cared about him.

[stevie-writes-the-pain-away]

Alcoholics Anonymous - Chapter Nine

        "Hey."

        I turned my head and saw Murdoc standing a few metres away, his chiselled features still striking from where he stood. I felt as though Murdoc was either always predictable in the strangest of ways or he was a complete stranger, and there was no in between. Even if I just met him. The air surrounding him usually felt perfectly quintessential as Murdoc was of himself, except he wasn't the same Murdoc I came to know. I felt exactly where I needed to be - or should've been - but he seemed nervous, not wanting to come any closer. I sighed and greeted him with a smile, "Hey." I nudged my head to the side, gesturing him to join me under the roof of the entrance.

        He ambled over as a cautious stallion would then pursed his lips like he was lost in thought. It took him a while to say anything, but eventually he took a deep breath in and out, turning my way. "(Y/N) . . ." I looked back at him. "About what happened the other day . . . I-I didn't mean to force myself on you."

        I widened my eyes, caught of guard and almost nonplussed. He certainly didn't force himself on me. Sure, the kiss was unexpected, but I let him crawl on top of me with open arms. I acknowledged the idea of silence not equalling "Yes", which I totally understood, but I think kissing him back with fiery passion was my own way of playing into his affection. Or lust. Now I wasn't so sure I knew what I was getting myself into . . . What was his goal that night? Suddenly there were too many questions.

        "No, no, Murdoc, you didn't at all." I hesitated to continue in case I wore out the assurance to a questionable degree, but laughed a little. "I . . . actually enjoyed our time together . . . a lot."

        Murdoc looked at me with doubtful, departed eyes, clearly just as surprised as me. "But I was also kind of an asshole," he claimed. "Not only was I withdrawing like a child does 'cause we were interrupted but I couldn't even offer to take you home." It meant a lot how much he cared and I would've never expected him to be that type of man, not that that's what was bewildering. If he was insecure about being intimidating in any way, I would've expected him to take an accepted apology with ease.

        "Don't worry about it, Muds, I took the bus," I smiled. "That's one less car to pollute the earth," I chuckled to lighten him up.

        "Are you sure?"

        "Positive," I pressed. Our gazes fell into each other like two deep pools of realization. I felt him inch closer with eased in comfort and I recognized that adorable, authentic smile I always dreamed about slipping back onto his face. I love that smile. I would walk into a million busy London, England thoroughfares to make sure it stayed there.

        "Well, I guess . . ." he turned back to face onward with aplomb. "On account that I didn't scare you off or anything . . . You're always welcome to my humble abode. And if you need anybody to talk to, I'm just a text away."

        I smiled to him, wishing his hands were out of the pockets of his jacket. That way, I could possibly shuffle closer, I could possibly hold one. Or maybe we could hold more than just our hands if Murdoc really felt something between us. "You're always welcome to my home, as well . . ." I paused. "Which, I just realized now, you've never been to."

        Murdoc smirked with perked up keenness, "Oh, right." We both eyed each other with the same idea. "And you've still got some of your music to show me, too."

        I felt my smile grow. "When are you free next?"

        The weekend came faster than expected. My exhilaration for the future certainly helped the boring, drawn-out days sweep by with ease. Cassidy had left with her friends again and wouldn't be back until late in the morning, I assumed, so it would just be me and Murdoc alone. Me and Murdoc alone. Was I possibly too excited for him coming over? Maybe. Was I probably holding my breath? You bet. Either way, I unnecessarily prepared myself for anything and everything.

        I'd told Murdoc my address after our last session, and when I heard him knock on the door I knew it couldn't have been anybody else. Placing my phone down and taking one last glance at my now clean apartment, I made my way to the door. Sure enough, when I opened it, I saw the handsome bloke carrying a small, warm smile on his face, "Good evening."

        "Hello there," I greeted with nod. It was showering that day and I noticed his choice of clothing; a more comfortable turtleneck sweater, with an oversized leather jacket and simple jeans all drenched from the rain. He kept his classic Cuban heels on though, and I let him in immediately.

        As I closed the door I watched him look around, realizing that in the light of my living room lamps his hair wasn't greasy as usual. It's not as if I cared about his hygiene considering I didn't even know how to take care of my own, but when he walked by he smelled quite nice. Stuff like that didn't typically stand out when Murdoc and I crossed paths but I guess something about that day encouraged him to step it up a little. "Nice place," he huffed.

        "I'm not gonna lie, it's usually a pigsty, but I figured cleaning for once wouldn't hurt."

        "For once or for me?" he smirked, and my face heated up.

        "Well, I've gotta make sure my guests feel special," I grinned. I didn't know what to expect of the rest of the evening but part of me was a tad more nervous than I thought I'd be. "Want a little tour?"

        "That'd be great," he agreed. Being an apartment, there wasn't much to show. The living room had a barely stocked shelf, coffee table, a single three-person couch and T.V set up on an end table on the opposite wall. Then, on the other side of the doorway, was a two-person dining table with only one chair, an empty kitchen and trash bin. The washroom wasn't anything special, nor was the laundry closet, but I saw Murdoc's interest gravitate towards my bedroom more and more. When I opened the door he smiled at the boredom of my tedious nest; a mattress, small bedside table, laundry basket, and an old, broken dresser drawer.

        "There's nothing really here, as you can see, but it's where I spend an unhealthy amount of my free time anyway," I nervously laughed. I invited him inside and he took a look around, admiring my belongings.

        I watched as he chuckled, "Did you just move in or something?"

        I laughed in return and shook my head, slightly humiliated. "Nah, I just never found the time to decorate or anything. I'd prefer to waste my money on that after the essentials."

        "Well, you should treat yourself sometime. Or at least draw a doodle every now and then and hang 'em up." Murdoc turned back to me, his head pulled into another wave of interest. "Where's all your music? Perhaps you could hang those up instead and give the room a little creativity."

        I blinked, looking around as I pictured the idea in my head. How could I have not thought of that before? "They're over here," I pointed to one of my dresser drawers. I didn't have enough clothes to fit every cubby, so I simply filled one up with my writing and a few sentimental belongings. I pulled the top drawer open and picked up a few sheets, scanning through them to make sure they weren't any of my intolerable pieces.

        I was never sure how to feel about my music. I was no critic, so I just kept writing and improving until I was satisfied, but I never had the confidence in myself to think they were good enough to be shared. And there I was, showing off my work to a professional producer from a music industry who did this shit for a living. It was at that moment of comprehension I completely regretted telling him about my hobbies.

        Murdoc took the paper from my hands, reading them over as he made himself comfortable on my mattress. I bit my lip, anxiously yearning for his reaction, but the more he read, the deeper he seemed to have dove into my work. I watched his eyes wander the paper with furrowed brows and wondered whether it was a fortunate or more unfortunate sign. "(Y/N) . . . You wrote this?"

        "Y-yeah. I . . . Is it bad?" I felt my gasp hitch.

        Murdoc shuffled in his spot and sat up straighter, re-reading the pages he held. "(Y/N), this is really good," he said, clearly as amazed as expressed. I felt a sigh of relief lift the heavy buckets of suspense from my chest and escape through my lips, walking over to sit beside him.

        "You really think so?"

        "Of course!" he exclaimed. He nudged me with his shoulder, an unexpected sign of validation towards my creation. I smiled so wide I must've looked stupid. I understood my happiness but couldn't perceive why Murdoc appreciating my music made me feel as giddy as it did; more than it would from the approval of others, I mean. Then again, he worked with music everyday, but he was also the only man that I deeply cared about at that point. No wonder I wanted a pat on the back from him so much. "Got a name for it yet?" Murdoc asked.

        "Nah . . . It's not like anybody else is gonna see it anyway," I faintly laughed.

        "We'll see about that," Murdoc chuckled.

        "W-what do you mean?"

        "Well, with work like this, there isn't one producer I know that wouldn't dive headfirst into signing you off," he said.

        I held my breath. I wasn't expecting Murdoc to absolutely abhor my writing, but his reaction felt almost too good to be true. "I-I don't know about that . . ." I replied under my breath. Murdoc looked at me as if I was just trying to be modest.

        "Well, if you're so unsure, you weren't wrong. I am a producer, so I might just steal this myself and release it with my name on it," he joked.

        I laughed, shaking my head. "Thanks for behaving so merciful towards my musical complaints."

        "Complaints?" Murdoc questioned. "These are more than just complaints," he commented with an insulted tone. "This is fucking art, (Y/N)! What's this one about?"

        I looked down to the ripped piece of crinkled paper, then back up to him, our faces only inches apart. "Um . . . Money, I guess you could say. I-I mean, it's more about how a lot of people would prefer money over other things? Especially how some people would rather waste their time and lives for money instead of appreciating what they already have."

        Murdoc's eyes grew soft and he hummed a low, gravely noise I'd remember him creating before; a sort of trademarked quirk of his. I hoped it wasn't a sort of scowl or laughter towards me and my stupid stuttering. "Nervous?" he asked.         I felt myself lean in close, and it looked as if he might've been as well. "N-no," I whispered. "Just flattered."

        "Well, I think it's endearing," he said. Our noses were nearly touching and I felt tempted to lean in for a kiss, and I think he felt the same way as well.

        Murdoc's smirk remained and we sat quiet, our lips seconds away from colliding before there was an echoed knock at the front door. Startled, I backed up, looking up to my bedroom door. I saw Murdoc's irritated expression bubble to the surface, gritting his teeth as he turned to the door as well. I could tell he took his No Turn-offs policy very seriously. "I-I'm gonna go get that," I said.

        I rose from my spot, reaching for the door handle. "I'll be waiting," Murdoc growled from behind me. I glanced behind my shoulder to see his tongue crawling out through his mischievous grin. His lustful expression, as well as his tongue sliding out between his lips and unrolling like salmon-colour silk was both interesting and arousing. I smirked back, reluctantly leaving the room and heading down the hall.

        I unlocked the front door and pulled it open to find Cockblocker Cassidy on the other side. She smiled at me, rushing past me and into the living room. "Change of plans!" she exclaimed.

        How lovely, I thought. "I-is that so?" I smiled as sweetly as I could. I watched her hop onto the couch, picking up the remote for the T.V. "Don't you have your keys?"

        "I think I left them here by accident," she answered. "At least 'I hope'. I'd hate to lose them again. Remember when I lost them the first time you came out with us?" she laughed.

        "Yeah . . . Well, what are you doing here?"

        Cassidy turned to me with a cocked eyebrow, "This is my apartment too, isn't it?"

        "No, you're right," I corrected myself, "but what are the change of plans?"

        "What's this?" I heard from behind me.

        I straightened my back as I jumped in my spot and whipped my head around, startled. I smiled awkwardly at Murdoc as he walked down the hallway, inviting himself into our conversation. "U-um, Cass?" Cassidy nodded, placing her feet on the living room table and nestling herself into a comfortable position. Murdoc walked forward, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans and Cassidy looked up, instantly alarmed and hopping to her feet like a nun watching a naughty movie. "This is my friend," I smiled.

        From the corner of my eye, I noticed Murdoc glancing back at me very briefly with a hint of dispirited confusion before smiling back at Cassidy. It hurt me the way he looked at me, but I wasn't sure what made him react so. The two walked closer to each other, their palms meeting in a swift handshake. "Pleasure to meet you Mr. . . . ?"

        "Niccals," Murdoc supplied. "Murdoc Niccals. And you're Cassidy?"

        "Cassidy Desdemona," she said.

        "(Y/N)'s told me a lot about you," Murdoc continued, and to my dismay, I nearly squeaked, gasping in shock. "All good things, I mean," he chuckled.

        "I should hope so," Cassidy mumbled, taking a glimpse of my suspicious, twisted grin. She ambled closer in my direction, "You never told me there was a man in your life," and she didn't even bother to whisper. Sometimes I felt like Cassidy's only purpose in my life was to torment me like a sister figure.

        "Cass, i-it's not like that-" I stuttered, before looking back at Murdoc. He looked at me, awaiting my answer with apprehension. "I mean . . . I-t's none of your business," I concluded as an attempt to be mature and straight to the point.

        Cassidy chuckled, shrugging and proceeding down the hall. "It was nice meeting you, Murdoc," she simpered over her shoulder before retiring for her bedroom.

        I sighed and wiped the sweat from my forehead, looking back at Murdoc who rested his hands on his hips. "What could be so important between us it's none of her business?" he teased. I smiled, feeling an urge from every atom of my being to lean in and taste his lips for real, but I felt paranoid knowing Cassidy was hanging around. I sighed with gloom, and Murdoc's smug look dissolved. "Is something wrong?"

        "No," answered under my breath. "I'm just . . . Cassidy might as well have eyes everywhere . . . She's the inquisitive type," I said.

        Murdoc mouthed an "Oh", looking away awkwardly and it was silent between us as I scratched my arm. "That's alright," he smiled, walking forward and raising his hand to meet my face, his thumb grazing my cheek. "It just means we'll be over at my place more often than yours," he said, coming closer and closer to my face.

        "I like your bedroom better anyway," I agreed, my fingers brushing his arm as I traced it over to his hand, holding it in my palm. He moved it back down to my shoulder and to my neck, his nails running through my hair as we moved closer. Our lips were about to meet before his hand left my shoulder, searching his back pocket and pulling out a small slip of paper in front of me. "What's this, you tease?" I light groaned with a smile.

        "A little something for your wall," he said, holding his hand in front of me. I looked down to see a silly sketch, reminding me of the first time he ever attempted a drawing for me. It honestly wasn't that bad of an okay hand symbol - I was impressed - but what I held up in front of me was a stealth attack of affection.

        It was a small drawing of two stick figures, one green-skinned with what I could only assume to be a bass guitar and the other with a microphone who's hair colour matched my own. I laughed, "Where'd this come from? I don't even remember the last time I ever sang."

        "Saw a pencil and sticky notes on the ground and thought I'd bless you with my talent," he said. "Pretty accurate for someone who drew from memory, huh?"

        "Oh, you know it," I smiled up at him, walking back to my room as he followed closely behind. I stuck the paper to the wall beside my bed so it could be the first thing I saw when I woke up every morning, and I smiled. I looked at it and smiled. I felt Murdoc's presence behind me, giving me a soft, fluffy feeling in my stomach I'd never felt before. It rose from my feet to my head and he got closer, wrapping his arms around my waist and letting me melt into his arms.

        I lifted my head from under his chin and turned around, and as soon as my eyes reached his face, our lips finally met. I felt my heart pounding in my throat and his delicate hands cradle me like a small house pet. I snaked my arms around his waist and pulled our chests together before our kiss broke. I couldn't help but giggle.

        "Do I amuse you?" he asked, and I looked up at his half-lidded, captivated eyes.

        "In a way," I admitted. "I'm just . . . I'm just happy."

        That single moment offered me more gaiety than I'd felt in years. However, no matter how euphoric he made me feel, Murdoc didn't really seem like the type to be willingly tied down by any serious relationship, did he? He was more of a smash and dash type of person, and he didn't hesitate to make this clear in therapy. I was partially convinced his admitted sex addiction wasn't still in broad action, but there had to be a reason he seemed to care so much about me. Hopefully he felt the same butterflies in his stomach as I felt in mine whenever I saw him. Besides, if Murdoc wanted to look like such a tough guy, surely he wouldn't want to act sweet in front of others very often . . . Maybe I was more special than I thought I was?

        "You alright, lass . . . ?"

        "Hmm?"

        "You spaced out a little, love." Murdoc smirked at me, and I blinked my foggy eyes away. In front of me stood a shimmering white cloud of blurry Murdoc's face and I hadn't noticed until I was too embarrassed to reverse the damage. "Undoubtedly another habit of yours?"

        I gave his face some personal space and backed up, sucking in a deep breath before shrugging. "You caught me," I sighed.

        "Well, if you're gonna get flustered over my devilish charms, maybe here isn't a good place," he said, looking back to my bedroom door.

        "You're probably right," I said, wondering if Cassidy could be listening into our conversation as we spoke. I was thinking irrationally, I know, but as much as I liked to think I knew her, we were still merely strangers who only went out partying a couple of times and got hammered at any attempt to familiarize each other.

        "Wanna go for a drive?" he offered, his smile wrapping me in a warm blanket.

        "Sure," I grinned. "I'd love that."

[just-an-anxious-mess]

Puppy Dog Eyes

Patton was well known as the pure, innocent, friendly trait but occasionally he could be quite mischievous.

He loved puns and, more importantly, pranks.

His pranks were never malicious or intended to cause the others difficulty, in fact they usually just involved him jumping out of random hiding places and hugging them or shouting compliments at them.

Sometimes though he did like to mess with the others.

One time he set out a paper trail of riddles to lead Logan towards the opposite end of the mindspace just so Patton could redecorate his room with pictures of himself that had puns written on the back.

Logan had just sighed and said "I liked the riddles but please don't do this again."

After a little while the others began to look out for Pattons pranks and would sometimes catch him in the act of setting one up.

However they never managed to tell him off for whatever he was doing because he had a secret weapon.

Puppy dog eyes.

It didn't matter if it was Logan, Roman or even Virgil. They could be midway through telling Patton not to do what he was doing and he'd look at them with wide eyes and a small pout, occasionally accompanied with a sad little noise.

It was potent. No one could ignore it or brush him off so Patton was free to continue his pranks without any resistance from the others.

One particular day Patton had managed to somehow make it so whenever anyone said anything bad about themselves they'd be showered with confetti and a small post it note would appear in their hands with a handwritten compliment.

No one understood how he'd done it, not even Logan.

They'd all asked him but he'd just smiled at them and said he had no clue what they were talking about.

Virgil was particularly affected by the prank as he usually cracked self depreciating jokes every five minutes and it wasn't long before he'd gone to Patton and asked him to stop the prank triggering.

"No can do kiddo, you'll just have to stop talking bad about yourself." Patton replied with a smile as he ruffled Virgils hair and walked off.

Virgil sighed and walked down the hall back to his room, he wasn't sure how much of this he could take.

He collided with someone as he wasn't looking where he was going and ended up on the floor.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going." Virgil said and looked up to see Roman offering him his hand.

"Don't worry about it, from the looks of the confetti in your hood I'm guessing Pattons little prank is hitting you hard." Roman said as he helped Virgil up.

Virgil frowned and looked down at the floor with a nod. "I asked him if he could stop it triggering for me but he just told me to stop talking bad about myself and walked off."

"Have you tried just not talking bad about yourself?" Roman asked.

Virgil groaned. "Of course I have, I'm not stupid. Talking bad about myself is just my humour so it's easy to forget about the confetti for a second and say something."

"Have you tried explaining this to Patton? Maybe if you explain he might remove it." Roman said thoughtfully.

"Ugh why didn't I think of that? Oh wait I know it's because I'm a failure." Virgil said then his eyes widened as he realised what he'd done too late. Suddenly confetti fell from above him and a post it note appeared in his hands.

"for fuck sake!" Virgil exclaimed and crumpled the post it note up without reading it.

Roman backed away as he watched Virgil tense up in frustration then slowly start to relax as he forced himself to breath calmly.

"Logan is working on trying to figure out how Patton managed this, do you want to maybe go talk to him and see if he's had any breakthroughs?" Roman asked when he was sure Virgil had calmed down.

Virgil opened his mouth to say something when he suddenly heard Pattons voice.

"Virgil! I have it on good authority that you swore!" he said in a disappointed tone and Virgil groaned.

He turned around to face Patton and looked down at the floor with a sad expression. He couldn't make jokes or even swear without Patton knowing now and that was kind of all he did. He didn't like the dad trait being disappointed in him.

Patton opened his mouth to tell him off for swearing when it seemed as if his voice had just stopped working. He stared at Virgil, opening and shutting his mouth for a few seconds before pulling him in for a hug.

"I'm so sorry Virgil, I'll remove it for you immediately." he said and Virgil looked at him in shock.

"You... You will?" he asked and Patton nodded.

Patton then walked off to who knows where to do whatever he had to do to turn it off.

"What just happened?" Virgil asked and Roman shrugged.

"He probably realised how much it was affecting you or something."

Virgil frowned. "I don't think that's it but what do I know? I'm not the intelligent one."

Roman gaped in shock when no confetti appeared and Virgil felt a pleased smile work its way onto his face.

"yes! I can call myself trash and useless again!" He said happily, his smile widening when still no confetti rained down on him.

Patton reappeared and smiled as he noticed how happy Virgil was. "Aw kiddo I'm sorry, I didn't realise just how much that would effect specifically you. I guess the others don't talk bad about themselves very often. I'll try something else next time."

"Can I help next time?" Virgil asked with a smirk and Patton beamed. "Of course you can."

"No, that is not happening. We already have to deal with Pattons pranks, I don't think we could manage if Brendon Misery here helped." Roman said shaking his head.

Patton and Virgil both had forlorn expressions and Virgil looked down at the floor with a small sad sigh. "I just wanted to be a part of something for once." he mumbled, looking back up at Roman.

Roman felt immediately guilty as he took in Virgil teary looking eyes and trembling bottom lip. "I... I'm sorry. You can help Patton." he said hurriedly.

Virgil immediately brightened up and Patton grinned. "Let's get down to business."

Roman couldn't stop himself. "To defeat the huns!" he sang and Virgil rolled his eyes as Patton joined in.

"Don't we have things to plan Patton?" Virgil asked loudly and Patton giggled. "Sorry, I got a bit carried away there... Almost like I was being swept away by the coursing river."

Virgil rolled his eyes and the two started to walk away, leaving Roman wondering how Virgil had managed to get him to give in so easily. "Am I just that much of a pushover?" he asked outloud and was rewarded by a burst of confetti and a note.

He read the note, smiling at the small drawing of the dog in the corner before a thought struck him.

He quickly dashed towards Logans room and burst in, not bothering to knock.

"Sweet Crofters Jam!" Logan exclaimed as Roman made him jump.

"What?" Roman asked, momentarily forgetting his epiphany.

"You may have... Startled me... Slightly." Logan said, his hand on his chest where he could still feel his heart pounding. "What did you want that made you act like such a mindless degenerate?"

Roman stared at Logan for a few seconds, still slightly amused at his exclamation but remembered why he'd burst in in the first place.

"We have a major problem!" he said with wide eyes.

"What?" Logan asked.

"Virgil has mastered the art of puppy dog eyes and somehow convinced me to allow him to help Patton with his next prank and now they're scheming somewhere and oh no we're doomed." Roman blurted out in one breath, panting once he'd done.

Logans face paled slightly. "Maybe... Maybe he isn't as good at it as Patton is and we don't have anything to worry about."

Roman shook his head "He managed to use them on Patton to get him to turn off the confetti prank just for him. We are well and truly screwed."

Logan gulped. "Well, that's... Definitely an issue."

"Logan!" a voice called from somewhere down the corridor and Logan took a deep breath as he prepared to go see what he was needed for.

"I'll remember you." Roman said dramatically and Logan saluted him before walking down the corridor to find Virgil waiting for him.

"You know how you're trying to figure out how Patton managed the confetti thing?" Virgil started and Logan nodded warily. "could you stop and just let him have a bit of fun?"

"I am curious as to how he did it, I need to know." Logan said and Virgil sighed.

"Surely the mystery of it is better than actually knowing though?" Virgil said, his voice getting quieter and sadder.

Logan almost caved in but said in a determined voice "No, I want to know how he managed it."

When Virgil didn't appear to react in anyway Logan wondered why Roman had been so worried. At least until he heard a soft sad voice.

"Logan, please could you just let him have one little secret? It's not hurting anyone or anything." Virgils large eyes were staring directly into his soul, or at least they would have been, if he had one, given that he was an aspect of Thomas's personality.

"I... Uh..." Logan stuttered, trying to remain firm in his decision to keep trying to work out what Patton was doing.

"I guess I'll go tell Patton I failed then." Virgil said his eyes starting to well up with tears and Logan suddenly burst out "alright, alright, I'll stop trying to figure out what he's doing."

Virgil immediately brightened up "Thanks Logan, I'll go tell Patton the good news and he'll be ever so grateful to you. Who knows you may even..." he leaned forward and whispered the next part "Get a thank you kiss from him."

Logan went red as Virgil turned around and walked away. He had no idea how Virgil knew about his feelings for Patton but one thing was for sure. Roman had been right.

Virgil had mastered the art of puppy dog eyes as well and Roman and Logan were in for a rough time. Or as Patton would say... A ruff time.

Logans eyes widened in horror as he realised what he'd just thought and he quietly muttered "I give up, my life is over now."

There was a burst of confetti above him and as it settled on his shoulders he couldn't help but whisper "fuck."

Tags:@amethystdarkwolf @mcfreakin-childproof-caps @patchworkofstars @kitkat-doodles @unikornavenger @dolphin-squirrel @sympathetic-deceit-trash @starryfirefliesbloggo @cakercanart @neonb-fly @kaymischief25

[hysterialevi]

When the Devil Cries pt. 25

Fanfic summary: (NO SPOILERS IN THIS STORY) After arriving in Saint Denis, Arthur ends up falling in love with a seemingly innocent pianist, only to find himself in a battle with one of the most notorious outlaws to ever emerge from America. Now, between working for Dutch and robbing money for the gang, Arthur has to also protect the man he loves as the two of them try to find their freedom.

Pairing: Arthur Morgan/Male OC

Previous chapter

This story is also on AO3

Author’s note: ***Small spoilers about Arthur’s past in this chapter!***

From Arthur’s POV

THE NEXT MORNING

Sliding the pencil across the paper, I drew a simple sketch of Eddie while he continued to sleep, his entire body submerged under the thick layers of blankets as he got some well-deserved rest. The boy looked perfectly content at the moment and didn’t have a single hint of worry clouding his expression. Instead, he simply drifted away in whatever dream was floatin’ around his head at the moment and held onto the pillow as if it was another person, squishin’ his face into the cushion.

I chuckled softly at the sight and added some details to his portrait, tryin’ to make it more than just a mess of scrawls and doodles like I normally did.

It had been a long time since I last sat down and drew something. With all the mayhem goin’ on recently, I almost forgot what it felt like to lose myself in my journal. But being back in Saint Denis, and preparing for this riverboat robbery -- it all got me itchin’ to sketch something again. And, I figured, who better to draw than the person I enjoyed being around the most?

Lightly scratching the pencil’s tip in a series of short strokes, I scribbled down Eddie’s ruffled hair and added some shadows around the sliver of sunlight runnin’ across his face, trying to make it as gentle as possible. He appeared to be in a complete state of solace right now, and I wanted to capture it as best I could. After all, I doubted it’d be a long while before he’d be this calm again, considerin’ what was coming up in the near-future...and I couldn’t deny that I was scared, too.

I mean, with the direction Dutch was headed in and the way our gang was slowly fallin’ apart, it made me question just how much longer this whole thing was actually gonna last. Civilization was storming through the country at a rate we couldn’t keep up with, and the more we ran from it, the more it seemed to close its walls around us.

We was only delaying the inevitable, s’far as I was concerned. Sooner or later, America was gonna throw us out like it did everything else, and we’d have to be ready for it. Whether we wanted to or not.

Catchin’ my attention with the soft sound of rustling, a gentle sniff reached my ears as I stopped drawing for a second and put down my journal, only to find Eddie sleepily looking back at me from the bed. His eyes were half-open just as I expected, and a lazy smile radiated on his face as he rose from slumber.

I smirked at him, placin’ the journal on my lap.

“There he is,” I teased. “Thought you was never gonna wake up.”

Eddie chuckled at that and glanced at my journal, causin’ him to raise a brow outta curiosity.

“...Are you drawing me?” He asked.

I nodded and carefully began to tear the sketch out, handing it to him.

“You mentioned Rodrick burned the other portrait. I, ah...figured I could make a replacement.”

The pianist sat up and took the sketch in his grasp, admiring it in a fond manner before beaming at me.

“Thank you, Arthur,” he said, his expression dimming with sadness. “I mean it. ...I truly thought I’d never see you again when I was stuck in that cellar with Rodrick. I know I wasn’t there for very long, but...he certainly made it feel like an eternity. I’m just glad you showed up before anything else could happen. If you hadn’t...I...I don’t even want to think about that.”

I let out a guilt-ridden sigh, starin’ at the numerous scars Rodrick had left on Eddie’s body.

“You and me both. I’m just sorry I didn’t get there sooner.”

Eddie’s sorrowful mood was quickly replaced with a sense of vengeance and he firmly shook his head in response, starin’ outside the window.

“I swear, Arthur...before all this comes to an end, I’m killing everyone in that bloody gang. Atticus, Rodrick, and anyone else who laid a finger on you or my family. They all deserve to die. They need to be wiped out.”

I suddenly thought back to what Hosea had warned me about and finally decided to bring up the subject, scootin’ my chair closer to the boy as Hosea’s final words rang in my head like a distant bell.

“...Actually, Eddie,” I said lowly, shutting my journal closed, “I’ve been meanin’ to talk to you about that.”

Eddie perked his head up, softening his tone slightly. “About what?”

I hesitated for a second and leaned forward, tryin’ to get my thoughts straight as the pianist waited for an explanation.

“I know this might sound strange at first, but...if my years as an outlaw have taught me anything, it’s that revenge...ain’t worth the sacrifice.”

The pianist gave me a puzzled look. “...I-I don’t understand. How can wanting to kill Atticus be a bad thing? Don’t you think he deserves death?”

“Of course I think he deserves death,” I replied. “But we may not be the ones to deliver it, and we’d be fools to hunt him down. I mean...just look at Dutch. He’s obsessed with takin’ revenge. It’s the only thing he lives for now. Sadie, too. Their want for revenge has consumed the both of them, and it’s turned ‘em into killers.”

I paused for a second, lookin’ at Eddie with a caring expression. “...But you ain’t no killer, Eddie. And I don’t wanna see you become one. You’re still young. You still have the potential to live a normal life, once all this is over. Atticus has already stolen your past from you. Don’t throw away your future for that bastard, too.”

The boy fell silent at that and thought to himself, clearly experiencing some sorta inner conflict now that I was sayin’ these things. He seemed to see my point and I could tell he knew where I was coming from, but there was still a reluctance to agree.

Tryin’ to make my point more understandable for him, I decided to tell Eddie a story that I hadn’t told anyone else aside from Dutch and Hosea, and took a deep breath, hoping that this would be able to change his mind.

“...Lemme put it this way,” I began, gaining the pianist’s attention. “I was once in the same position as you, Eddie. I know how temptin’ revenge is...and I’ve seen what happens if you give in to it. I lost my family too. Many years ago. Just like you did.”

That piqued his interest. “...Really?”

A mournful breath escaped me. “Yeah. I...I used to have a son, actually. His name was Isaac. He was...such a good kid. And so was his mother, I guess. Just a nineteen-year-old girl named Eliza. They was the closest thing to a real family I ever had. I wasn’t able to stay with them all the time ‘cause of my work with Dutch, but every few months or so, I’d go back home and stay with ‘em for a couple of days. Try to give Isaac some sort of father figure. And for a while, it worked. But...just like everything else, it eventually failed.”

I brought my gaze to the floor, admittedly findin’ this a lot harder to talk about than I first anticipated.

“I came back home one day...and saw two crosses outside. I knew right away what happened. I just didn’t know how. It turned out -- they was robbed. And killed. All for ten bucks.”

I swallowed out of grief and bit my lip, thinking back to that god-awful day as Eddie listened intently.

“Their deaths...” I continued, trying keep it together, “they changed somethin’ inside me. I spent so long tracking down their killers. It was all I cared about for the next few months. I didn’t care about Dutch, or Hosea, or the gang...the only thing I wanted was to find the people who had killed them, and make them pay for it.”

I repainted the killers’ faces in my mind, gesturin’ to an invisible scene as I carried on with the story.

“...One night, I found their camp while I was searching along a river bank.  They were all there, huddled ‘round a campfire and sharin’ drinks. Having a good ol’ time. They almost reminded me of our gang...but that didn’t matter to me. Without saying a word, I stormed in there like an absolute madman and shot the whole lot of them. Set their stuff on fire. Did everything I could to make sure they was sufferin’ in their last moments. And I sure as shit did.”

I glanced down at my hands. “When it was over, though...I felt...strange. I remember I was sittin’ there in the middle of their camp, kneeling on the ground with bodies lying all around me and blood staining my hands. The peace I had been looking for was nowhere to be found. Instead...I just felt empty. Like I no longer had a reason to live now that my family’s killers were dead. I had sacrificed everything for these bastards, and forgotten the man I once was in the process.”

I turned back to Eddie, resting a hand on top of his.

“You’re the only person I’ve found ever since then who’s...who’s made me care again. Who’s made me feel like this ain’t a waste of time. So please, Eddie. Don’t do what I did. Don’t become the man I am. You’ll never find peace otherwise, and there ain’t no goin’ back. Can you promise me you won’t?”

The boy was quiet for a while, evidently taken aback by the story I just told him and surprised about my past while he considered everything I said. There was still a fire in his eyes that told me his desire to kill Atticus hadn’t gone anywhere -- and that it probably wouldn’t anytime soon -- but against all better judgement, Eddie eventually gave in and sighed out of defeat, agreeing to promise this one thing.

“...Okay,” he whispered vehemently. “It’s...going to take me some time to understand all this completely, but if you think this is what’s best for me...then I’ll do it. I promise.”

I nodded in approval. “Thank you, Eddie.”

Having had enough of this melancholic mood, I cleared my throat and stood up from the chair, gettin’ ready to head outside the saloon as I brought my mind back to the robbery at hand.

“Anyways,” I said, “I’ll let you get dressed. Meet me outside when you’re finished cleanin’ up, and then we’ll head back to camp and...let Dutch know what’s what.”

“Alright,” the pianist replied. “You sure we can rob this riverboat?”

I shrugged, makin’ my way out the door.

“I ain’t sure of nothin’ just yet. All I know is there’s money on that boat, and Dutch wants it. So long as he’s got his eyes on that cash, we ain’t going nowhere. The best we can do is be prepared, and keep our eyes peeled. Other than that...” I opened the door, scoffing in an amused tone, “we’ll just pray, I guess. But at this point, pfft...I doubt even God would bother savin’ us.”

[one-true-houselight]

[image description: A pencil drawing of my Dungeons and Dragons character named Johnathan. Johnathan is a lanky human man with short hair that is styled vaguely upwards. He is wearing a cuffed shirt with diagonal stripes, leather body armor that fastens on his right, forearm guards, and fingerless gloves. He has long, slightly fitted pants, a belt, and boots. On his right hip, he has a pouch with the bottom of a flute sticking out of it. We can see the string of a necklace around his neck, but whatever occupies the string is inside his shirt and armor.  He has his right hand behind his back and is gesturing with his left hand to the written words: ‘Hi Fantasy Reddit! I’m Johnathan, Ask Me Anything!’. He is smiling at the viewer. /end id]

Hey look, it’s my new character! 

As a way for me to get into this character and write the appropriate backstory for my wonderful DM @stella-clara, I’m going to do as it says above: Ask Me Anything! Below the cut I’m going to put questions and answers of stuff I want to cover, and if you have questions you want to ‘ask’ him, feel free to send them my way!

Q: What’s your story, Johnathan?

A: Now, that’s a very broad question. I have many stories. I have the story of how I found my boat, the story of the time I broke my arm when I was 7, the story of when I accidentally brought home a possum...

Q: How was your childhood?

A: Well, about as good as can be expected. There’s sometimes not much to do as a kid, you see, so I came up with slow activities to fill the day. My parents were great, they taught me a lot of things that help me on my ships. I mean...I don’t know how to explain this, but there was always a sort of odd air in my house. I assume most places are like this, like there’s something happening beyond the range of a kid’s understanding, you know? Like I said, probably pretty common, but it something I always kind of picked up on. I have an acute sense for this kind if thing, which is frankly pretty annoying.

Q: So, it seems like you were close with both of your parents. 

A: Yeah! They were both great. My dad was a clerk at a shop down the road, and sometimes brought that home to me. My mom taught music around town, including me. Music is a big part of who I am...I don’t know if it’s because I was a little closer to my mom, or I was close to her because of music? Anyway, I can actually play the flute, the lute, and the viol! Which is pretty cool. 

Q: How often do you play those?

A: Well, I usually play the flute because it’s easiest to carry around, you see. I can stow it away if I need to attend to some rigging or whatever. And my crew mates love my music...most of the time. I have a bad habit of doodling with my flute in stressful situations, so they threaten to throw my spare flute overboard every once in a while. 

Q: Spare?

A: Yeah, I have two. I got a second to use in dangerous situations, to lend out, or whatever. This one...my main one I guess...my mom gave it to me. She always played it through my life, and I always admired it. See these carvings? That was my shit right there. And when I got ready to go off for the first time, she gave this to me, and told me it would always help me know who I am. You know. Fun stuff like that. 

Q: That’s lovely. How are your parents doing?

A: Well, they’re both dead. No no, don’t worry about it, it wasn’t particularly tragic or anything. My dad died a few years after I left, so about five years now,  and my mom passed about two years ago. I haven’t actually been able to get back to go through the house since she died, but I did visit both a few times before they each went. It was all in their sleep, there was at least some warning for both. I’m rambling, sorry. I’m hoping I can get back soon. 

Q: Can you play us something?

A: Unfortunately, Fantasy Reddit is still fairly text based, given it’s just pieces of paper that people run around. I do shows sometimes, though. Try to make it to one of those!

Q: What’s that around your neck? 

A: Oh, this? Piece of sea-glass from my first trip on my first ship. We were going to help deliver supplies to victims of that awful storm ten years ago? Well, we stayed a bit to help rebuild and such, and I was helping some of the adults watch the kids at one point. We all took turns, it was a good change of pace. There was one kid, about 6, whose parents died in the storm. I apparently looked just like her dad, so she gravitated towards me. She only called me dad the first time she saw me, but seemed to realize I wasn’t pretty quickly. But she still found comfort in my presence, you know. And I’m there, 18 years old, thinking I know everything, and here’s the thing. The destruction I saw in that town was enough to knock that out of me real quick, but to have this kid, this tiny human forced to become singular that young? It took my breath away. 

I know the question was about the necklace I’m getting there. 

Anyway, so she usually hung with me, and sometimes would come into where repairs were happening, and of course the whole crew also adopted her as well. She was the only orphan from that storm. Can you imagine? We helped clear the roads so they could get their usual supplies through; that’s why we came over water, because the roads were blocked. After about a month, we were ready to head out. The town was starting to come back to life, and they didn’t need us anymore. When we left, there was a huge celebration to thank us, and she gave me this piece of sea glass, saying it would be my lucky charm. So I got it made into a necklace first chance I got, and I wear it all the time now. It’s a good reminder of what I’m trying to do in this world, you know? 

Q: How’s the girl doing now?

A: Oh, Diana? She’s great, I see her every few years. She’s apprenticing on a ship now, and is already a better sailor than me!

Q: What made you decide to start sailing?

A: I lived in a coastal town all my life, so it was always around. And the idea of traveling like that always sounded freeing to me. I joked about finding slow activities to fill the day, but for me, staying in one town was never really how I saw my life going. And I’m not knocking people who do that, of course. Everyone’s different, you know? But the sea always had new things, and led to new places and people. Just being on a ship makes me happy, you know? I would sometimes play songs with the waves and the creaking of the wood. 

Q: Do you ever get nervous?

A: Asking me if I ever get nervous is like asking a normal person if they ever breathe, you know? Everything makes me nervous. Talking to you, right, now? Nervous. Walking through town? Nervous. I’ve learned to control it and cope with it, but it’s always there. I mean, I’ve almost died like, 238 times. I can get through it, but afterwards I go lay down and scream for a while. 

Q: How are you with that sword?

A: Are you flirting with me? Because I’m not opposed. Oh, both. Cool, we’ll talk about that first one later, but this old thing? I’m alright. My parents taught me how to handle myself, and I’ve used both this and my dagger a good number of times, and I’m still here? So I guess not bad?

Q: What do you drink?

A: Nothing. Well, nothing alcoholic, I guess. I don’t drink nothing, then I’d die. You know what I said about being nervous all the time? Well, I used to deal with that with drinking...let’s just say I was told I ‘ruined parties’ enough to look into that. Also, my captain having to talk to me was another clue. I have much better mechanisms now, don’t worry. 

Well, that’s all the questions I have! If you’ve read this far, you may have noticed that Johnathan resembles a real life funny-bard. That is intentional and you KNOW my ass is going to have fun with that. Send in questions if you’d like, and have a lovely night!

[dalilaswork]

HELLDREAMERS Pt. I || Connor x Reader

Author: Dalila Ship: Connor Murphy x Reader Word count: 3.271 Trigger Warnings: destuctive thought, mentions of self harm, half-attempted suicide, low self-esteem, anger management problems, shitty writing.

YOU

So, first day of school, huh? Senior year... Yeah, that really sucks. Especially after moving in from a whole another town. But it happens. You just got to deal with it. Like you deal with every other shit that happens in your life.

I picked out the jeans and the t-shirt I left at the chair the day before and looked at my reflection in the mirror.

God, I looked so ugly.

I couldn't help but see how my nose was too big, how my eyes were too small, how uneven my skin colour was. Those were minorities that most people just ignored, but I saw them everytime I looked at myself . And no matter how many compliments I heard, it just wouldn't go away.

I got dressed and looked at my reflection once more: something was missing. Sure - a hoodie. No one needs to see my scars. At least not yet.

Downstairs, my mother was already filling up some papers, I could hear that. But before I went down I looked out the window: luckily my brother's car wasn't there. It was safe.

Malcolm wasn't just a regular annoying older brother. He was a drug addict with serious mental issues. My parents tried their best to help him, but Malcolm could never admit something was wrong with him. From his point of view, we were the psychos.

After grabbing the bag, I ran down the stairs and quickly got to the door. I wanted to escape, but my mother wouldn't just let me go. She looked up from the documents just as you I began to tie my shoelaces.

"Why are you leaving without breakfast? You should eat something."

You should eat more, you're unhealthy. You should eat less, you're gaining weight.

"I'm not hungry yet. I'll grab something before classes start." I said quickly before running out the door, so my mother wouldn't drag me into a much worse conversation.

Quickly I searched the pockets of my jeans for the earbuds. I needed to numb myself . After picking my favourite song to play, I began looking around the new neighbourhood.

Almost all houses looked the same; same neat lawns, same driveways, same roofs. I was sick of it. I missed my old house, far from the noises of the town, with a forest nearby. It was my home.

I finally reached the school. Nothing too worrying. From the outside everything looks normal. It's the inside that hides the horrors.

After settling the usual stuff like a small tour and a visit to the headmaster's office, I was left alone in the corridor. However, I didn't get to enjoy the loneliness for long, as someone pulled at my sleeve. I turned around to see a smiling girl with a book in her hand and glasses on her nose.

"Hi, I'm Alana. Are you new here? I don't think I've seen you before." she smiled even wider. For some reason I found the smile simply fake. After all, who in their right minds just goes up to a new kid with a smile so wide?

"Do you know every kid around that you're so surprised? It's a big school." I lifted an eyebrow at her, wondering how she might react.

Her smile got thinner at my words, she must have not expected that. "I-I mean, I try to remember everyone, and I really d-didn't see you here before, so..." she began rushing the words.

"Nice," I cut her short. "I rarely remember faces." I didn't really feel like talking to her. She did seem like that kid, who wanted to be friendly towards everyone everytime. "See ya." I hated that sort of people.

"Wait, I didn't catch your name," stubborn, I thought.

"(Y/N)"

"Will I see you at lunch?" she asked, going back to that unsettling smile.

"Dunno, maybe." I quickly turned my back and headed forward. I had no idea which direction I was going for, I just wanted to get rid of that Alana girl.

I hated people who were always so nice to everyone. Mostly because, from my previous experience, it always turns out to be just an act. A facade created to look cool. Not once had I heard that someone was there for me if I wanted to talk, but when I really wanted to talk, they'd always be busy. But I got used to it.

I got used to a lot of things.

I looked down at the schedule I was holding. Of course, trying to get away from Alana I ended up going in the wrong direction. Luckily, the school was planned quite easily, so I had no problem knowing which way to go.

I just needed to go through a small corridor to get to the other building. The corridor was significantly smaller, actually. I could only see one person there. A tall boy with shoulder-length brown hair. I walked past him, but I stopped when I heard someone speak.

"Hey, Connor. I'm loving the new hair length. Very school shooter chic."

I turned around to see that another kid walked in. So the tall one was Connor. School shooter, maybe they were friends. Friends sometimes have weird sense of humour with each other.

All I could see was Connor's back and the other guy's face. He had short, light brown hair and glasses. From his expression I could tell that they weren't friends. He was just being an asshole.

"I was kididng, it was a joke." he said, rolling his eyes. Yet another type of person I couldn't stand. I immediately recalled how people at my old school used to laugh that way at me.

"Yeah," Connor's voice seemed so... Emotionless. "No, it was funny. I'm..."

"Your jokes are even worse than your style." I stepped towards the kid. For a moment standing beside Connor.

"What's your problem?" the kid stepped back. For me it was an encouragement to go further.

"You. You're my fucking problem. You think you're funny? My dead grandmother was funnier at her funeral!" I told him as I kept walking towards him. The kid must have got scared a little, because he raised his hands in defeat.

"Jeeez, calm your tits, dude. " he said and walked off. Only now I noticed there was another guy, with a cast on his left arm. Just when I laid my eyes on him, he followed the jerk out of the corridor.

"Sorry for that. I get a little carried away when I hear douchebags like that." I said as I turned back to Connor. He was pale, and I think his eyes were slightly red. "So... I guess you're Connor, right?" I looked up at him and tried to smile.

He narrowed his eyes at me and took a step back. "Why would you care?" as I looked at him; he somehow resembled of a cornered bunny.

"I don't know," I didn't want to push him. "I don't like jerks. You don't seem like one." I shrugged and looked down at my watch. I was short on time. Well, I could easily blame it on getting lost. "I'm (Y/N)... if you care." I said and moved past him to find my class. First English. Then Art. Then Math. We'll see how it goes.

...

It was weird.

Either I was brilliant at math, or this whole school was so backwards. During the lesson I got a little carried away with my thoughts, and instead of listening to the teacher I just began drawing doodles in my notebook.

"(Y/N) (L/N)..."

"Yes?" I got my head up as I heard my name.

The teacher must have noticed that I didn't pay any attention. "I understand the struggles of being a new student, but that isn't an excuse. You should be paying attention."

You should pay attention, you should do this, you should do that, you should...

"Do you even have an idea what to do with this problem?" the teacher gestured to the blackboard and crossed his arms on his chest.

Luckily, I remembered that problem. My previous teacher was pretty strict, so the entire class was always ahead of the schedule. I told him how to solve it. He seemed pretty impressed.

I didn't pay much attention to it, though. I went back to my doodles, occasionally looking up at the teacher.

But it only got weirder as the doorbell rang.

"H-Hey" a kid walked up to me as I was gathering my stuff from the desk.

"Hey" I replied, looking up at him. I noticed the cast on his left arm. "What's up?" I asked, only now remembering that this kid was also in the corridor with the douche, Connor, and me.

"Well, I-I thought... I mean, I'm not that good at math..." he seemed anxious. He didn't even look at me as he spoke.

"I can help." I said quickly. I felt bad when he was stuttering like that. "When?"

"Oh, really?" his eyes opened widely. "What time... Uh, is Wednesday okay with you? If not, then..."

"Wednesday it is then." I smiled at him, wanting to reassure him. I wondered, was he always like this or was it because of the morning incident? "By the way, I'm (Y/N). And, uhm... I'm sorry I yelled at your friend. But he was being a jerk."

"I'm Evan. And Jared... He's not my friend... I mean, he's a family friend. It's different, apparently." We walked out of the classroom together. "Uhm, do you... Have a minute?" he asked, running a hand through his hair.

"I have, why?"

"I need to go to the computer lab for a second, but... Maybe we could eat lunch together?"

"Sure. I can go with you to the lab."

"Oh, but I-I meant the lunch, not the lab" he began stuttering again.

"I know. I just didn't want to sit there by myself." I lied. I would be totally fine with it. But to be honest, I felt a bit protective over Evan.

"Oh, OK." he only said and rushed to the computer lab. I followed slightly behind, picking at my (f/c) nail polish. His phone started ringing, so I got even more behind, to avoid eavesdropping. He seemed a bit upset. Once we were finally there, he began writing something on the computer and I sat on one of the chairs nearby . I took a moment to look closely at the kid.

As he sat on the chair, probably unaware of me looking at him, he looked pretty normal. Just another teenager with blue striped polo shirt and short honey blonde hair. He was quietly tapping on the keyboard. There was a bit of a contrast between that kid and the one who approached me after math. "What're writing?" I asked, looking down so he wouldn't know I was staring.

"Oh that's just a stupid, it's a paper I have to write for a, uhm, for an assignment..."

"For school?

"Actually, no... Ahm, my therapist... I don't know..."

"If you don't feel comfortable talking about it, it's fine." I told him. And then we fell into an uncomfortable silence, that was broken only by the sound of the printer from the other side of the room. I got up and headed towards the door. Evan didn't get up, though. He just sat there. I stopped, one foot in the lab, one already outside

"So." I turned around when I heard a familiar voice. "What happened to your arm?" Connor stood in front of Evan, nervously hiding his hand in his pocket. In his other hand he held a paper. Was he there all along?

Evan looked a little startled. "Oh, I uhm, I fell out of a tree actually."

"You fell out of a tree?" I saw how Connor smiled before letting out a chuckle. "That is just the saddest fucking thing I've ever heard. Oh my God... " to my surprise, Evan also began to smile. He seemed a bit less scared. That was good. Connor shook his hand before moving closer to Evan.

"I know.." Evan chuckled as well, getting up from his chair.

"No one's signed your cast."

Evan's smile got thinner at the words. "No, I know." only now I noticed that the cast was indeed empty.

"I'll sign it. " I smiled at Connor's words. It was nice of him. I moved towards them, scanning through my bag.

"Me too. " I said before Evan could get any weak protest out of his mouth and handed Connor a sharpie. He looked at me in disbelief.

"I thought you left." Connor narrowed his eyes at me. He raised his hand to take the sharpie, but hesitated.

"Well, I didn't. " I smiled at him and tilted my head a little.

"You're like, a fucking phantom girl. " he shook his head and took the sharpie. Also, I think I may have seen a shadow of a smile playing on his lips. He signed Evan's cast first, then I took out another sharpie to do the same, but with smaller letters, slightly above the huge CONNOR.

"So, now we can all pretend we have friends, right?" Connor said, with this tired smile growing on his lips.

"Why pretend?" I asked, looking at the two boys in front of me. When I first saw Evan, I thought he was Jared's friend. Another douche. But he was just an anxious boy, in need of a friend. Just like me. And Connor...

Connor looked at me for a while. I had no idea why. Then he offered me a slight smile as he looked down. "Maybe... Uhm, I think it's yours? I... I heard you talking about the assignment, so I grabbed it for you." he awkwardly held the paper for Evan to get.

"Oh, uhm... Thanks..." Evan reached out and took the paper from Connor. His cheeks were blushing. Was he ashamed that Connor heard us?

"I hope it's not a habit of yours to eavesdrop on people." I joked and put the sharpie in my bag. I looked back up with a smile.

But Connor wasn't smiling. His face went pale, even more than before and I could see how his hands were shaking a little. "You think I wanted to hear that?" I think his breathing got a bit heavier. "What, you think I'm this kind of freak that goes around and spies on everyone?" his voice raised and I stepped back, slightly taken aback. "Is that what you think?!"

"N-No..." I stuttered as I saw him raging. It was just a joke, I didn't mean to hurt him in any way.

"Fuck you!" he yelled, throwing the sharpie my way and storming off. I didn't even have time to react, so the sharpie just bounced off my head. I simply stood there, bewildered. Evan looked at me and then at the door. He started picking at the hem of his shirt nervously.

"Is he always like this?" I asked, before finally realising something. I looked down at my watch. "God, my class starts now. " I didn't even notice the time passing as we sat in the lab. I took out an empty paper out of the printer and scribbled my name and phone number. "If you need anything, just call or text me. Bye, Evan!" I waved before running out of the lab. I checked the schedule. French. Just around the corner. Perfect.

But as I glanced to the window, I noticed a tall figure running towards the park. A familiar figure, with long hair. I wondered if I should go follow him...

No.

He clearly wanted to be alone.

And we weren't friends. Not really. I still didn't understand why he stormed off like that. Was it really because of what I said?

No, I wasn't rude. I was just trying to be friendly and make a joke. What was his problem?

Maybe there was something I didn't know...

"Hey Zoe, isn't that your brother running off to the park?" I heard someone say. I turned around to see who it was. A guy in some band's shirt and short black hair was talking to a brown haired girl. When it came to style, she couldn't be more different than Connor. But when I looked at her face I could find a few similarities.

Leave it (Y/N). It's not your problem. He's not even your friend. Why would you care?

Maybe because someone has to...

I came up to the girl. "Are you, uhm..." that was the second time today that I randomly walked up to someone just because I heard something that wasn't even meant for me. Why am I doing this? You don't even know him. "I'm sorry, this must seem weird as hell but... Are you Connor's sister?" I asked, biting on my lower lip. Great job (Y/N), now she probably thinks you're crazy...

I watched the expressions on Zoe's face change from confusion, to irritation, to concern. "Did he do something?" she asked quietly, so only I could hear. The boy took a few steps back to give us some privacy, but I noticed how he looked at me. As if I said something strange. "He's a freak, so if he'd done anything..."

"No, he didn't. I was just wondering... Could you send him a message from me?"

She furrowed her brow at me, but eventually nodded. "What is it?"

"Just... Tell him that I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"Please, just text him..."

"... Okay."

CONNOR

The world is just a mess. A fucking mistake. And why should I be a part of this misery?

I sat in the park near the school. It was quiet here, at least for now. Mostly because all the annoying jerks were still at school. It was better this way. No one to see me break down.

The world's a fucking mess. The school's a fucking mess. I'm a fucking mess.

Why did I storm off  like that? The girl was actually pretty nice. It could be just a joke. Was it really? She didn't look like a typical bully. They never look like this. She said we could really be friends...

She was just trying to mock you, idiot.

She's new. She doesn't know me, probably never even heard of me. Which is for the best, actually.

Please, who the fuck would want you as a friend? You're a freak. You're the freak.

She defended me.

She pitied you.

I dug my fingers in my head, trying to get the voices to go away. I was tired of it all, why can't it just go away?

It could go away.

It will go away...

This morning I took a bottle of pills from the bathroom. It could be the end of this. End of this misery. I mean, no one would care, right?

*BEEP*

For fuck's sake.

I had tears in my eyes as I looked at the phone. It was lying on the ground next to my leg. I wanted to ignore it. There was Zoe's name after all. I just wanted to throw the phone away.

But then I saw the message. It was short, but it hit me like a ton of bricks.

From: ZOE (Y/N) says she's sorry.

I held the phone in my hand. It was shaking. I was shaking. Why was I shaking?

It's been so long since anyone apologised to me. Sincerely...

I don't really know why, but instead of throwing my phone, like I previously planned, I ended up throwing the bottle of pills away...

A/N

There are three other parts (for now) on wattpad, if you want to read the whole thing and leave feedback, you can search the title HELLDREAMERS on wattpad and it should show up.

[tgwltw]

I don’t like your boyfriend.

request: Could you do a fic where Peter has the biggest crush on you but you have a boyfriend? And somehow they get together in the end? Thank you!!

I think I might have gotten a tad bit too carried away when I wrote this. Thank you for sending in this prompt and sorry it took me a while to get this posted. There are probably a lot of mistakes here and there but regardless, I hope you will still enjoy reading this! 2.2k words of hopefully something good lol

p/s: AU (you’ll see it when you see it).

“What can go wrong, Peter? You should go for it, Peter.” Peter grumbles under his breath as he stuffs his books in to his locker as he continues to grumble under his breath. “This will be the last time I ever listen to your genius idea, Ned.”

“You called me?”

Peter slams his locker door shut in surprise, turning to face his best friend. “You scared me!” He hisses and Ned shrugs his shoulders.

“Thought you heard me coming up.” Ned points out as he opens his own locker, putting away the books that he doesn’t need to bring home. Peter furrows his eyebrows and leans against his locker. As much as he really wants to just leave Ned be, Peter knows Ned will follow him to the end of the world.

Peter waits for Ned and once Ned is done putting his books away, he closes his locker and looks at Peter expectantly. “So? How did it go? Did you tell Y/N?” Ned inquires, leaning close to Peter.

Peter steps back slightly, the frown on his face deepening as he remembers what had happened earlier. “You told me Y/N is interested in me!” Peter whispers when he spies a few students chattering about and Ned nods his head: most of the time he is never wrong in his calculated assumptions.

“Y/N should be! I mean, Y/N is always, you know, blushing whenever you’re around and all that.” Ned tells Peter weakly but winces when he realizes that he doesn’t sound convincing enough and judging by the look Peter shot at him, Ned knows he must have done Peter wrong. “No?”

Peter huffs, shaking his head, pulling the straps of his bag tightly. “No.” He had gone out of his way to look for you during lunch with the hopes that he can confess his feelings to you. Peter has had this crush on you for the longest time and he never thought it would be possible for him to have a crush on someone else after the whole debacle with Liz Allen but that was before you came into his life. “Saw Y/N with that lanky blonde guy and they were looking extremely chummy.”

Ned furrows his eyebrows. “Lanky blonde guy?” Ned ponders for a bit before snapping his fingers. “Oh, him. Huh, that’s… well…”

Peter groans, running a hand through his hair, ruffling it. “Yeah. Ned, can we just stop talking about this? I don’t want to talk about it. Forget about my feelings for Y/N.” He grumbles and Ned opens his mouth to refute but when Peter sends him another look, Ned quietly shuts his mouth.

“So… how about some legos? I got these new one last night and...”

Of course, just as Peter thinks he should try to forget his ever-growing feelings for you, lady luck decides to pair the two of you up for some project. If it had been a few days ago, Peter probably would have been extremely excited at the prospect of working on something with you but now that he has to be with you for the next couple of days to complete the project, he feels all sorts of emotions: unreadiness, nervousness, pain and even longing.

Peter approaches you and lightly taps on your table, causing you to look up from the notes you were currently doing. He gives you an awry smile, one that you return with a warm, charming smile. “Hi, Peter!”

Peter blinks a couple of times. He was slightly taken aback by how you knew his name - most just refered to him as whatever nickname Flash came up with but hearing his actual name coming from your mouth made him smile genuinely. “Hi, Y/N - um, you weren’t here earlier? So Ms. Ho paired the two of us together for a project? I - I wanted to let you know I can make time for this project on top of my internship?” Peter is thankful he didn’t stumble over his words too much and he looks at everything but you, missing the big smile on your face.

“Oh! That’s really great. I had something important to do earlier unfortunately but that’s cool!” You brush your hair over your ear, still smiling at Peter. You always like seeing Peter smile; there was just something about his smile that makes you feel assured and calm. “So, do you know what the project is about and when we are to submit this?”

Peter nods his head, pulling the chair in front of you and sits down. “So, um, Ms. Ho gave us free reign over the topic so long as it shows the language and gender differences in media and by the end of next week so that’s more or less than two weeks.” Peter murmurs and you nod your head.

“Do you mind if we come up with a topic quickly? Or do you already have something in mind?” You ask him, slightly taken aback by how handsome Peter is upfront. You have always thought Peter to be good-looking but now that he is actually sitting right in front of you, you can see just how devilishly good-looking he is. “I mean, I am open to any though. Language and gender in media isn’t exactly my forte but I can definitely do my part so that we can ace this.” You add quickly.

Peter shakes his head. “Nothing that stands out so far; how about we brainstorm a few ideas and then we can eliminate it from there?” He takes out his notebook, flushing slightly when you compliment the doodles he had drawn on the cover. “Thanks,” He murmurs shyly.

You smile at him, nodding your head. “Okay, let’s get to it!”

After that fateful day, Peter’s resolve in trying to move on went out the window especially when he found out that his reasons of liking has gone from superficial ones to genuine ones: Peter especially likes it whenever you laugh at his terrible science jokes and puns and the way you would always look at him with that beautiful smile on your face.

Things were going pretty well: the project is coming along fine and Peter likes to think that the relationship the two of you shared is different too. You have been texting with him frequently and sometimes, at nights, the two of you would end up Skyping but you were always the one to fall asleep (mostly because Peter is often home very late due to keeping the neighbour safe and clear of any villains) and Peter wouldn’t openly admit but those nights when you fall asleep first, that’s one of the moments he absolutely cherishes.

Unfortunately, all good things come to an end especially when he sees you with the lanky blonde guy once more but this time around, the two of you are hugging so tightly and the only thing that went through his mind at that time is how he had fooled himself entirely. It was bad enough that he had gotten carried away with his feelings for you especially when you already have someone. He shakes his head, putting the rose he had gotten for you in his bag. He had actually gathered enough courage to confess to you today but once is a happenstance, twice is a coincidence and three times is enemy action.

The frown on your face deepens when Peter turns away quickly, walking away the moment you headed into his direction and you cannot help but feel slightly down in the dumps. You approach Ned, tapping him on his shoulder. He jumps slightly, startled by you and turns around. His jaw drops the slightest bit and he waves his hand at you awkwardly.

“H- Hi, Y/N!” Ned smoothes his hand over his shirt. “What - what brings you here?” He tries to lean against the locker but since he miscalculated the distance, he almost fell sideways before Ned righted himself and cleared his throat.

You bite your lower lip, wondering if this is really the right thing to do before you gathered your courage. “Why is Peter avoiding me, Ned?” You ask him frankly. Ned blanches, wincing a bit and you can see the gears turning in his head as he tries to come up with an excuse. “I thought we were doing well, Ned. I really like Peter and I thought we were hitting it off so good and suddenly he just - “

Ned stops you from talking by placing his hand on your mouth, muffling the rest of your words and he stares at you, eyes wide in surprise. “You like Peter?” He asks incredulously and when you tried to answer, Ned’s hand is still over your mouth so you tap his hand and he drops it like hot potato, mumbling his apology.

“Yes, I do.” You answer him truthfully. You aren’t really sure what this has got to do with anything. “Does Peter not like me and finds my feelings burdensome?” Your cousin often tells you how much of a mother hen you are - although, you know deep down inside, he likes it whenever you pamper him, the brat.

Ned shakes his head furiously. “No, Y/N!” He stops himself and then continues talking. “Peter thinks you already have a boyfriend so? Do you already have one?”

You frown and shake your head. “I mean, last time I checked, I am still single. I think I would know if I got myself a boyfriend, Ned.” You tell him flatly. He sighs in relief and grabs you by the shoulders, surprising you when he leans in close.

“Then who’s this lanky blonde guy that Peter thinks is your boyfriend and why is he always with you and hugging you?” Ned asks seriously, trying his hardest to stare you down and you could not help the laughter that bursts from your mouth.

“Stevie?” You pull away from Ned’s grip and shake your head, feeling incredulous over his words. “Steve’s my cousin; the brat gets sick a lot and this semester’s his first time back in school and I love my cousin like my little brother, Ned but he is definitely not my boyfriend.” You tell him and he sighs in relief once more.

“Your words are wasted on me, Y/N. You ought to tell Peter because I think he misunderstood everything.” Ned points out before telling you where Peter had most likely ran off to and you give Ned a quick hug, thanking him and rushed to where Peter is supposedly at.

Peter sighs as he kicks a pebble. Maybe this is his luck? Always liking the right girls at the wrong time? He glances at his phone - it’s still too early for him to go around the neighborhood as Spiderman - and Peter is about to get off the bench when a pair of arms wrapped themselves around him from behind, causing Peter to let out a small yelp in surprise.

He turns to his right, the tips of his ears turning red when he realizes it is you. You have an unreadable look on your face as you stared at him. “Y- Y/N, what, what are you doing?” He asks, flustered by how close you are - he can literally feel you pressed against him and he flushes as he tries to slowly pull himself out of your hold but you tightened the hold you have around him, pressing yourself on his back.

“I like you a lot, Peter.” Your words caused Peter to freeze and it takes a few seconds for the words to fully sink in. “Will you give me a chance to explain myself?” You ask him and Peter nods his head dumbly, frowning when you drop your arms from him and move around to sit beside him. You turn to face Peter, grabbing his hand. “Stevie is my cousin - he’s the lanky blonde guy you always see around me. Steve’s an only child and for as long as I can remember, he has always been sickly and he’s like a little brother to me.” You explain, studying Peter’s face and a smile appears on your face when it finally dawns on Peter that he had misunderstood the situation and jumped to conclusion.

Peter groans, covering his face with his free hand, embarrassed at himself. He peeks at you through his fingers and drops his hand from his face. “Sorry about that, Y/N.” He mumbles but since the two of you are sitting close, you heard him loud and clear. “I just… I’m… Can we start over?”

You nod your head, smiling at him. “Of course!”

Peter sighs, smiling at your words. He swallows the lump in his throat. “Hi, my name is Peter Parker and I can be silly at times and I am sorry for jumping into conclusions. I, uh, I really like you, Y/N and I was wondering if you, if you would like, to go on a date - with me, that is. Yeah, with me.” Peter rubs the back of his neck sheepishly and you could feel your cheeks hurting from how big your smile is.

“Hi, Peter Parker. I like that you are silly at times and I really like you too.” You confess and Peter stares at you with adoration. “I would love to go on a date with you, Peter.” You flush slightly and Peter grins at you, pulling you in for a hug. You giggle as you wrap your arms around his torso. “You’re so silly, Peter but I think that’s one of the things I like the most about you.”