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combat-wombatus · 4 years ago

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Truth or Dare

Pairing: Sero Hanta x reader

Genre: fluff, a lil bit of crack

Warnings: swearing (bakugou), but other than that, none! (unless u have traumatic memories of truth or dare)

WC: 3.1k

Summary: Mina and Denki work together to make sure that you know exactly who Sero's crush is.

(A/N): so @klvbxlove requested some headcanons about sero’s fem!crush having an obsession with kpop/anime and sero doing cute stuff for her and i tried sticking with the prompt in the beginning but then i led myself off-topic (oops) so it turned into this! sorry it’s not what u requested, i can write something else for u if u want! i was just struck by sudden ✨inspiration✨ for this fic so...here u go...

“EEEK!” You squealed, bouncing over to your friends. “LOOKLOOKLOOK-”

“(Y/L/N),” Bakugou grumbled. “Calm the fuck down, no one can understand you.”

You took a deep breath, then handed your phone over to Mina.

As soon as Mina saw the screen, she started squealing just like you were.

“(Y/N)!!!! OMGOMGOMGOMG-” she grabbed your arms and started jumping up and down like an overexcited toddler.

Bakugou rolled his eyes, gave an exasperated huff, then stomped away. “Can’t deal with you idiots when you’re like this.”

Mina dragged you by your arm over to a bench on the side of the cafeteria and the two of you spent your lunch break slurping udon and watching your favorite K-pop group’s newest music video on repeat.

Sero was chatting idly with his friends, mouth full of sushi. Unbeknownst to you, he had been watching you from the corner of his eye, sneaking glances every couple of minutes. Dense as Kaminari may be academically, he had noticed Sero’s preoccupation with you throughout the meal.

“Hey bro,” He poked Sero’s elbow with the clean end of his chopstick. “Whaddya keep looking at (Y/L/N)-chan for?” He squinted at Sero. He glanced briefly at you, and seeing nothing out of the ordinary, turned his eyes back on Sero. “Do you have a crush on her or something?”

Sero choked on his piece of salmon and spluttered, face beet red. “N-no! It’s not l-like that!”

Bakugou snorted. “You dumbass. The hell you mean ‘it’s not like that’? Any idiot with eyes and half a brain can see that you’re obsessed with her.”

As Sero tried to deny his feelings for you, Mina slowly shifted her attention from your phone to hers, which was dinging incessantly.

Kaminari

hey bro bro broski my man my lady? minaaaaa

Mina

asdkjfhluhal i told u to stop calling me that and what

Kaminari

so u know abt seros crush right

Mina

u have the AUDACITY to ask me, the queen of gossip, whether or not I know abt seros crush? the sheer AUDACITY is STAGGERING-

Kaminari

ok ok stop bullying me anyways wanna get them tog?

Mina

D U H would be easier if y/n wasn’t so dense and sero wasn’t so chicken

Kaminari

since ur in do u have a plan

Mina grinned. Of course she did. What kind of person did Kaminari think she was?

Mina

take sero to the boba place after school meet u there

Pocketing her phone, she turned back to face you. She had to resist the urge to cackle. This was gonna be fun.

Later that day, you and Mina walked to the dorms together.

“Whaddya say we go out today?” Mina asked excitedly, eyes gleaming. You found it a bit suspicious, since yesterday she had told you that she was failing math and was going to study with Yaomomo today.

“Didn’t you say you were going to study with Yaomomo?”

“Shit.” Mina face palmed. “I did, didn’t I? But I don’t waannnnaaa,” she whined. “Let’s just go out and get some boba and we’ll come back,” she promised, giving you the puppy dog eyes.

“Okay, okay.” You relented. “But if you fail math again, don’t blame it on me.”

She clasped a hand to her chest dramatically. “I would NEVER.”

Giggling, the two of you made your way to Coco’s Café, a cozy little place that served everything from coffee to cookies. It was also a developing cat café, mostly due to the popularity of the kitty that the place was named for, Coco.

Sidling up to the counter, you ordered a matcha boba tea while Mina ordered a strawberry milk tea with lychee jelly and boba.

“Is that it for you ladies today?” The man behind the counter asked cheerfully.

“Yes please!” Mina replied. The two of you sat in a corner booth, sipping your drinks and gossiping.

“Hey (Y/N),” Mina started. “So you know about Sero’s crush, right?”

You halted mid-sip. What? Sero had a crush?

Laughing at your startled expression, Mina leaned forward in a conspiratorial manner. “So,” she whispered. “Who do you think it is?”

You sat there, drink forgotten, racking your brain for possibilities. Jirou and Hagakure hung out with Sero sometimes, exchanging memes and goofing around, but they weren’t really around that often. Usually, Sero only hung out with Kaminari, Kirishima, Bakugou, Mina, and you. Mina, possibly? Was Sero gay? Did he have a thing for, say, Kaminari or Kirishima? You didn’t think that Sero would be the type to like Bakugou, but hey, he put up with Bakugou’s temper all the time, so maybe? Ugh. You resisted the urge to groan and drop your head into your hands. This was so complicated.

Mina sat back, this reaction obviously not being what she had hoped for. “Well?” She crossed her arms. “Do you have a guess yet?”

You thought about it, then decided to pick an answer randomly. “You?” You tried.

Mina snorted and almost spit out her drink. You were absolutely unbelievable. Of all the people you could’ve chosen, you picked HER? “No, (Y/N). It’s not me,” she managed to choke out in between fits of laughter.

You sprawled out on the table, no longer concealing your frustration. “Who is it then?” You whined. “Jirou? Hagakure? Is Sero gay?”

Mina actually did spit out her drink this time.

As she cleaned up her mess, Mina silently judged you with her signature side-eye. She really is that dense, huh. Guess I’ll have to knock some sense into her.

Furiously brainstorming, you tried to think of any more possibilities. As you sat in silence, something warm and fuzzy crawled sneakily onto your lap, and stayed there.

Knocked from your daze, you glanced down and the unfamiliar presence, only to realize that it was a kitty. THE kitty. Coco, the café’s namesake.

“Aww,” you cooed, lightly scratching behind her ears. She purred happily in response to your ministrations and curled into herself, tail tucked neatly around her haunches.

Just then, the doorbell jingled and the rest of your close friends walked in.

“Hey!” Kaminari chirped, giving you and Mina a lighthearted wave.

“Hey!” You replied, unaware of the glare Mina was currently giving Kaminari. As soon as they went up to order, Mina stood up and announced that she was going to the bathroom. You took out your phone and scrolled through your social media feeds, taking advantage of this time to research.

“Psst!” Mina pinched Kaminari’s elbow lightly.

“Ow! What?” Kaminari turned to face her.

Mina gave Kaminari her scariest glare. “I told you to bring Sero, not the whole squad!”

Kaminari whimpered. “But Kirishima heard and wanted to tag along too! And it would’ve been suspicious if I said no! And then Bakubro heard that Kiri was coming and decided to come too-”

Mina sighed. “You could’ve texted Sero in private!”

Scratching the back of his head, Kaminari gave Mina a sheepish smile. “Sorry Mina, I hadn’t thought of that”.

Mina stole a quick glance back at your table, and seeing that you were otherwise occupied, she turned her attention back to Kaminari.

“So, Stage 1 of the plan didn’t work. She didn’t even seem to consider herself as a possibility! However, no fear! It is time that we put Stage 2 into action!” Mina whisper-shouted. “It’ll be more complicated with Kiri and Bakugou present, but we always have a Plan B!” She quickly related her backup plan to Kaminari, who promised to tell the boys (minus Sero) to make it run more smoothly.

After giving Kaminari a quick fist bump, Mina slinked back into her seat. “So, (Y/N),” she paused, chin resting on her hand. “Since the boys are here, why don’t we ask Sero himself?”

You looked up from your phone. You hadn’t really found any clues as to who Sero’s crush could be. Most, if not all, of his posts were with your group of friends. You thought about it for a moment.

“Wouldn’t it be awkward if he didn’t want us to know?” You asked Mina.

“Oh, but we’re nosy friends! It’s our JOB to know and then tease him about it!” Mina giggled. “And besides,” she added. “Aren’t you even a little bit curious?”

You hesitated. She did have a point. You were curious, but at the same time, a little voice in the back of your brain nagged at you. Did you really want to know? Did you really want to see him crushing on someone else, and then tease him about it? That wouldn’t really be funny, for you, at least. But if you disagreed with Mina, it would be suspicious, and besides, you WERE curious. Even if the answer wasn’t the one you wanted, you would still rather it be out in the open than bottled inside. You’d rather know for certain than lose sleep over it at night.

Sighing, you relented. “Sure. What did you have in mind?”

Mina rested both of her elbows on the table and smiled at you, eyes gleaming with mischief.

“Truth or dare.”

As the boys returned, each holding their own drinks, Mina was bouncing in her seat. Bakugou and Kirishima each pulled up a chair, and Sero took the chance to sit next to you. At that, Mina smirked devilishly.

“So,” she grinned, fingertips dancing on the table. “Let’s play truth or dare.”

Bakugou huffed, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. He couldn’t believe he’d been roped into this, but Kirishima and Kaminari wouldn’t let him ruin it. Kirishima dropped a fist on the table. “Yeah!” He turned towards Mina. “Who’s starting?”

Mina pretended to think about it, when in reality, she had already made plans.

“How about (Y/N)?”

“Me?” You raised an eyebrow. You thought that Mina would be the one to interrogate Sero.

“Yes you, dummy,” Mina teased. “Is there another (Y/N) sitting here?”

You rolled your eyes. “Who are you calling dummy?”

Mina grumbled. “Just get on with it, would you? Who are you going to ask?”

“Hmm. How about Sero?” You turned to face him. “Truth or dare?”

Sero was panicking. You weren’t the type to give out ridiculous dares, and he definitely needed to be cautious about truth. “Dare.” He said confidently.

You chuckled. Mina had prepared you for this possibility.

“I dare you to kiss your crush within the next 24 hours,” you said, “and the whole squad had to be there to see it.”

Mina and Kaminari let out simultaneous “oohs”. Bakugou pointed out the obvious. “Why the next 24 hours?”

“Because we don’t know who his crush is and they’re probably not here right now,” you answered. “And the whole squad will have to see it to make sure that he does it and doesn’t chicken out. You’ll have to ask their permission first, though,” you added. “Consent is key. Even if they turn you down, as long as you tried, we’ll count the dare as completed.”

Your friends nodded in agreement. Mina clapped her hands gleefully. “You should’ve known, Sero! You can’t hide things from us!”

Sero was *this* close to having a panic attack. He had to consciously remind himself to keep breathing. This is going to be so embarrassing how am I going to do this without making an utter and complete fool of myself gosh you really should’ve not stared at her at lunch today Sero or this wouldn’t have happened jeez are you really that dumb now the whole squad will know and you won’t be able to look her in the eye anymore adfkhiavelrsnjaerliaevr BREATHE SERO BREATHE-

The game continued. Mina dared Bakugou to smile for 5 consecutive minutes, at which Bakugou nearly flew out of his seat, palms crackling.

“You fucking extra how dare you-” He didn’t get to finish, as Mina quickly took out her phone and opened the timer app.

“And the countdown starts now!” She cackled. “That is, unless you forfeit-”

“I’M NOT GONNA LOSE TO YOU, YOU DUMB FUCKING EXTRA!!!” With that, Bakugou angrily took his seat again, disregarding all the angry scowls he received from the rest of the café’s patrons, and pulled his lips up into what could only be described as the devil’s grin. He sat like that for a full five minutes, glaring lasers into Mina, not moving a muscle. You think Mina was mentally scarred after that, because she never looked at Bakugou for the rest of the game.

Kirishima dared Kaminari to record a video of him singing the pi song and send it to Jirou. The poor boy had so many voice cracks while singing it that Kirishima went easy on him and told him to just send the first 15 seconds.

Bakugou dared you to let everyone look through your phone for one minute. You were reluctant, but seeing as you were relatively normal with only minimal embarrassing photos, no confession texts, and a fairly clean search history, you let them do it. The most embarrassing thing they found was your playlist.

“How the fuck is your playlist 74 hours and 42 minutes? What the fuck do you have on here?” Bakugou held out your phone for the rest of your friends to see.

“And why is your history full of that shitty Korean music?”

You gasped. He did not.

“Hey!” You snatched your phone back. “If you’re going to insult my music, you don’t get to continue!”

“Tch.” Bakugou sneered. “You call that shit music?”

You were thoroughly offended by this point and refused to even acknowledge his statement. You glared at Bakugou with as much intensity as you could muster. This man had no taste in music whatsoever.

The 1-minute timer dinged, and Bakugou was saved from a scathing talking-to as you all moved onto the next victim.

Mina was dared to order a glass of milk with ice, then put it on a random table (with customers) and leave without an explanation. She ended up choosing an old couple, likely in their sixties, who were cuddling with two cats. They’d each ordered a cup of coffee and shared a plate of cookies. When Mina put the glass of iced milk on their table, and the two women shared a confused look before turning their attention to Mina.

“Thank you?” The lady with horn-rimmed glasses asked rather shakily.

“Yes, thank you very much young lady, but we didn’t order this?” The one who had a tabby on her lap said, perplexed, looking Mina up and down.

Mina made a motion with her hand, zipping her lips, then giggled and sat back down at your table. The two ladies, baffled, took one look at your table and seemed to understand what was going on. They turned back to their coffees and cats and resumed their conversation.

You had all gone one full circle, and everyone had finished their drinks, so you all decided that it was time to go. You rubbed between Coco’s ears one last time and walked out into the afternoon sun.

“Hey Sero!” Kirishima clapped Sero on his back. “Don’t think we’ve forgotten about your dare,” he smiled cheekily. “Better get it over with when we first head back into the dorms, huh? That’ll probably be the easiest time to get it over with.”

Sero groaned. He’d hoped that you would all forget after the game was over, but his luck had run dry. He’d have to face the music sooner or later. He debated on his options. If he waited too long, he’d seem cowardly. He didn’t want to do that. On the other hand, maybe if he waited a full day, you would all forget? He shook his head. No, with Mina here, she’d never let him live it down. And besides, who was he to renege on a dare?

Taking his hands out of his pockets, he rubbed them together nervously. This was it. This was the moment of truth.

“Hey guys! Wait up!” He called out to Kirishima and Bakugou, who had walked ahead of the group. “I’ve got something to show you!”

Bakugou quirked an eyebrow. “Oh?” He smirked. “Whatcha got, Tape Arms?”

Sero cleared his throat. “I-I’m ready. I’m ready to do the dare.”

Your heart leapt into your throat. It was just you and the rest of the squad here. Did you really have a chance? You were scared to get your hopes up, but maybe, just maybe, you would be the one he kissed.

Hands curled into fists at his sides, Sero gulped. He was doing this. He was really doing this. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath in and out, and strode over to where you and Mina stood.

“(Y/N),” He stared at his feet. “Would you…would you allow me to kiss you?”

You covered your mouth with your hand, trying to calm yourself down. It was you. Sero had a crush on you. Your crush liked you back!

After a while, Bakugou felt the need to step in.

“Oi, dumbass!” He hollered, garnering the attention of curious passerby. “You gonna let Soy Sauce Face over there kiss you or not?”

Your face flushed a furious red. “U-Umm, y-yeah!” You stuttered. “You can kiss me, Sero!” You cringed at how excited you sounded.

Slowly, Sero tilted his face downwards. He lifted your chin tenderly and lowered his lips to yours. His lips were soft against yours, his breath tickling your cheek as he let go. You blushed harder than you ever thought was possible, and he looked down with a pleased smile.

“Thanks, (Y/N).” He said in a soft voice. “Can I take this as a sign that you have feelings for me too?”

Nodding frantically, you whispered a noncommittal “mhm”.

“Can’t hear you, sweets,” Sero teased. “Come on, I’m gonna need a verbal confirmation.”

Looking up at him, you cleared your throat. “Yes.” You whispered in a slightly louder tone. “Yes, I h-have feelings for you too.”

At this admission, your friends all cheered, Mina hooting especially loudly. “Hells yeah!” She high-fived Kaminari. “We did it!”

“Best wingmen ever!” Kaminari shouted.

“That was so manly of you Sero!” Kirishima added, flashing a thumbs-up. “Congrats!”

“Tch. Yeah, whatever. Finally got it in their thick skulls that they liked each other. Big fucking deal,” Bakugou grumbled.

“Hey, hey! Don’t you go and ruin the mood now!” Mina scolded him. “Just look at them! They look so happy!” She pointed towards you and Sero.

“Hmph. Well, those idiots could’ve been happier sooner if Sero had the fucking balls to confess earlier.”

“Oh, shut it already! Just be glad that they’re finally together!”

“Like I care.”

“Stop pretending, you big grouch! We all know you care!”

“Tch.”

Masterlist

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kanene-yaaay · 4 years ago

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Sleep

Kanene’s note: Heya! It’s me, Mario!!! dfghjkrgthjk jk jk. Okay, that idea hit me in the middle of the night and I think it’s very cute!! So have a bit of tickles and fluff and teases today!

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* This characters don’t belongs to me! They all belong to the anime/manga Boku no Hero.

* This is a SFW tickle fanfic, so, if you don’t appreciate this kind of content, please, look for another blog. There are a plenty of fabulous arts in this site!! ^w^)b

* This is Switch!Yamada with Switch!Aizawa. They’re in a romantic relationship. Around 2.200 words.

* The Ler!Aizawa part was inspired by these tickle-headcanons! They’re absolutely amazing!!!!

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! Any and every advice is very very welcome! \(-w-)/

* Consume some of your comfort content! Fanfic, series, movies... anything that makes u happy! Drink water, sleep, eat and love! Today is another day and I’m proud that we’re both still here.

[~*~]

Yamada woke up to complete darkness.

Which wasn't such a rare occurrence. With both his and his husband’s tendencies of having migraines their room was often bathed in a total lack of light, and that, together with the fact of Aizawa being an incorrigible cuddle bug who soaked his ‘daily dose of morning snuggles’ – as Hizashi loved to call them and loved even more the other’s blushed face and deadly glare directed at him every time he dared to say such thing - was enough for him to find no surprise at all in feeling the pressure of Aizawa basically using him as his own personal bed.

“Morning, babe.” He maneuvered himself to gently kick Shouta’s legs off him, which resulted in the immediate locking of arms on the blonde’s waist, Shouta mumbling whatevers as he nuzzles his chest, making Yamada giggles quietly. He began to comb Aizawa’s hair with his fingers, both out of adoration with how much adorable his husband could be and to take it from his own face so he would be able to see what time it was.

Eight in the morning. Yep. Time to start getting ready for their meeting with Nedzu and his usual Saturday patrol. He would also need some time in between those to call the Radio’s station and see if everything was ok with today’s interviewed, get a couple more of songs to play tonight and make sure to come back at two in the afternoon so he and Eri could have some quality time as Shouta slept a bit to not pass out on his night patrol.

OK. That sounds like a plan! Time to begin the day with a proper breakfast since both were equally horrible in keeping a healthy routine and he would probably forget to eat lunch since Eri wouldn’t be there with him serving as an adorable, lovely reminder that humans have basic needs in order to be alive.

He tried to move, receiving an annoyed growl as an answer, the arms squeezing a bit firmer. Hizashi snorted.

“Sho, I need to make breakfast and wake up Eri, okay?” He kissed the top of his head and traced an imaginary flower on his cheek, voice soft, feeling the other melt on him, humming happily. “You can sleep a few minutes more.”

“No. Warm.”

“I will bring you our cats, you can show your undying love to them, then.” Hizashi tried to pry the other’s grip from him, unsuccessfully. “Come on, let me go. We have a meeting to attend with Nedzu today, remember?”

“Fuck ‘im.”

Hizashi controlled himself to not bark a laughter, fingers itching to get his phone and amplify his blackmail treasures. “Shh, he will hear you.”

“’don’t wanna cats,” Aizawa’s tune was slurred and he deposited a tired kiss on his bare shoulder, “I wan’ you.”

And damn if that didn’t turn his weak heart in a happy gooey puddle, his smile going from one ear to another and his resolve to be a responsible adult and get out of the bed was almost burned to total inexistence.

Key word: Almost.

Especially when the raven haired adult sighs contently, his breath lightly tickling his neck and leading to a quite evil idea to gain form and color on his mind. His smile got wider, eviller.

“Okay, babe.” Yamada’s hands rested on the other’s sides, going up, fingers smoothly running across his ribs, his nails barely grazing the skin as they went slowly back and forth, back and forth. A soft ‘tsk’ flew on the air as the smaller began to squirm. “Let’s have some fun then, shall we?”

His index fingers stopped their dance to focus on his lowest rib, circling that sweet spot in the middle of it while the other fingers concentrated in clawing the horribly sensitive skin around it, staying firm on their task even when Aizawa jumped with the ticklish jolts that hit him.

“H-hi-hizasshhhi.” His tone was low, warning. His brain still trying to wake up enough while his body wobbly fought to escape from the sensations, his struggles increasing specifically when his husband adjusted him so he would be laying on his back on the top of him, arms criss crossed on his chest.

“Oh, is someone finally waking up? ~” Aizawa scrunched, Yamada’s breath hitting his ears. However, his attempts proved themselves futile as the other took as his duty to nibble, huff and puff on the ticklish spot, going from one ear to another with ease, finally breaking his husband’s barriers and being rewarded by a low, fast giggly fit. “I wonder what I did to deserve that my incredible, handsome decided to bless my morning with his sunny presence today!”

“Hizashi, I am going to k-ILL” His snickers suddenly raised an octave as the blonde gave a quick squeeze on his hips that made his waist jerk instinctively.

“Now, now, is that way to greet the love of your life?” Hizashi whined. “Stop laughing, Sho! I’m trying to hold a serious conversation here but something tells me you’re distracted.” Yamada kept lazily poking him, slow enough to leave him breathing properly, but quick enough to tear snorts and chuckles from his firmly pressed lips.

“D-d-don’t.” His face was in flames as a barely muffled squeak fell from his mouth as Hizashi gave a quick nip right behind his left ear, letting out an adoring ‘Awww. Isn’t he adorableee?~’ in the process.

“I am- I am going to get you back for that! You know I will!”

“So grumpy, so cutee. ~”

He tried to turn in order to give his beloved a deadly glare which usually made his students and villains fear for their lives, his eyes only barely catching his husband’s bright smile before his breath was stole when his partner resolved to attack, unmerciful squeezes mixed with a couple of thumbs digging energetically on his hips, kneading, tickling.

His laughter filled the room.

“HIZASHI!!” He kicked and trashed, but in vain.

“What is it, babe?” The other started to switch between his tickle spots, knowing he couldn’t take it too long or they would be late. “Wow! I didn’t know you could be so alive in the mornings, love!! Have you been hiding that from your awesome husband all along?” Nails scratching on his armpits, fingers prodding his ribs, wriggling on his waistline, drumming on his belly. “All that beautiful laughter? All that wonderful snorts? And giggles? And squeals? Now, I am wounded, Sho! I thought we didn’t keep secrets from each other!”

When nothing except laughter and squirming answered him, he decided to stop, deciding the few minutes of fun were already enough adrenaline to maintain Shouta conscious enough until he prepared his coffee. He quickly laid the other on the mattress, resting some kisses on his face as his husband got his breath back.

“You-” He gasped, hiding his smile behind his hand. “You better run.”

In a second Hizashi was out of their bed, “OkayloveyousomuchbabeI’mgoingtowakeEriupdon’tkillmeIloveyousosomuchbye.”

And run he did.

[~*~]

Shouta dumped his capture weapon on the couch, immediately seeing three blurs of fur dashing from his peripheral vision directly to the object, meowing and getting tangled as they fiercely ‘fought’ with it. Shouta knew that this being his weapon and therefore an important part of his work, he shouldn’t let his cats play with it. However, as he petted two fluffy heads that popped from the cloth and the exhaustion started to totally take over his body and actions, he couldn’t bring himself to care. He had some spare scarves somewhere, he was sure.

“Dumb cats.” He fondly remarked, scratching their newest kitten under her chin before adventuring to his room, stopping only to check on Eri and relax as he found her calmly sleeping on her bed. Good.

His eyes narrowed as he noticed the light coming from under his bedroom, sighing and putting his eyedrops, already aware of the other fight he would have to face.

“Hizashi,” it’s his greeting. The blonde hums, glare still clued on the screen in front of him, head resting on one of his hands, “it’s three in the morning and we have classes tomorrow. Turn that thing off.”

“Hypocrisy, hypocrisy.” Yamada sings, hand rocking in the beat of his imaginary melody, the tiredness dripping from his words. Yet he took off his headphones, turning on his direction with alert eyes. “Are you hurt?”

“Nah, slow night.”

“Good.” Hizashi smiled. A small, true smile that spread a warm feeling across his chest and only made his resolute to protect his husband from every bad thing in the world grew stronger, even if the ‘bad thing’ which threatened him right now was his horrible sleep schedule. “We saved some dango for you. It’s on the fridge.”

Aizawa nodded, watching him turn back to his computer. “I’m going to grade 1-A tests when I am back.” And that perked the other’s attention, since both had the habit of grading tests together in order to get some quality time on their incredibly busy lives.

That is why the taller was sitting on the bed with a pack of papers in his hands when Shouta came back, falling on the mattress face first, relaxing on the soft fabric. But, he couldn’t concentrate on that feeling now, turning to his left and trapping Yamada with his arms around his sides, legs entangling.

“Sleep.” He clued his face on the other’s stomach, his voice vibrating across the skin and gathering a mix of snort and squeal, probably because of the ticklish sensation.

Oh. Ticklish.

“Babe, I really can’t right now. There are those videos I asked for my students to do and I really need to analyze and give them the results before the weekend.” Aizawa scolded his expression so his devil smirk wouldn’t be noticed by Hizashi, instead he looked up, locking their eyes, his features inexpressive as ever.

Hizashi bit his lower lip.

He frowned, intense glares.

“Okay, okay! You know I am weak for those kitten eyes, your cheater.” The blonde pouted and pointedly ignored the smug shining on his partner’s face. “But this is only a break, ok? Just some cuddles and then I’m going to finish my work.”

Aizawa hummed, not quite agreeing, not disagreeing. Yamada laid down and chuckled as the raven haired adult quickly hid his face on his neck, a hand absently running on his back and melting his strict pose.

“Cuddlebug.”

A yelp escaped from his lips as Aizawa used a thumb to prod the so, so sensitive skin between his shoulder blades. The morning events from yesterday fell on him as a bucket of cold water, sending shivers down on his spine, essentially when Yamada tried to wiggle away, finding his form very well secured on his love’s arms.

“Shouta, no.” Shouta hummed, his voice vibrating on the sweet spot that was his neck, his stubble helping in nothing the giggles which already began to bubble on his throat. “Shouta, please, my love, light of my life,” he could almost feel the other’s wicked grin grow, the hand tensing behind him, “no, no, no! I can’t! You know I can’t! Shouta, I-”

And with no warning a loud shriek - which didn’t break their windows due how fast Aizawa activated his own quirk - dashed from his mouth, laughter blooming as a mix of pokes, scratches and kneading along the whole extent of his upper back, even giving some special attention to his ribs and spine, kept him in stitches.

His back arched at the tickly tickles, sending him directly to the unbearable nuzzles of his husband, the main reason for so many squeaks and squeals make themselves present on his uncontrollable laughter.

“Tsk, tsk. One would think that such a known pro-hero would be able to put up with a better fight.” Nuzzle. Scribble. Unintelligible pleas of mercy. Raspberry. “Always so easy to read…You could at least try to pretend you aren’t loving every. Second. Of. It.”

“Shouta! Nono! Shuhuhut up! Shut up!”

“It’s not my fault you were always so defenseless to teases. What about we train you to endure them?”

Hizashi shook his head, laughing and shrieking too much to gather a real answer.

And, as sudden the attack came, it was gone. The hand went up to gently massage his scalp, tearing a relaxed sigh from Yamada as he fought to get his breath back, high-pitched giggles still tripping from his lips since the light tickles continued on his poor neck, sporadic kisses and eventual nibbles on the spot right under his chin maintaining his gigantic, bright smile.

“So ticklish, so helpless. Just a few well placed touches and I can already defeat you.”

“You talk as if you were any less susceptible.” A squeeze on his knee warned him about the possible consequence of his words. Hizashi pinched his thigh in retaliation, although much less energetic.

“Don’t. Different from you, I want to get some real sleep.” And then he started to comb the blonde hair, Yamada’s eyelids began to drop, his tiredness now being much more present as the other used his number one melt spot against him.

“Cheater…”

“You will survive.” Shouta tilted his head up and kissed his husband’s lips, also starting to drift away as Hizashi’s arms pulled him closer.

“Good night, babe.”

“Night.”

#Switch!Aizawa #Switch!Yamada #Ticklish!Shouta #Ticklish!Hizashi #bnha tickles #bnha tickling #Aizawa *being tickled*: I am going to get you back! You know I will/ Mic *chuckles*: I am in danger :]#They're precious #Romantic relationship #Mouth tickles #Light and hard tickles #Teases and tickles #Kanene's Fic #Kanene's Fanfic #Kanene's Art #<333 #I didn't proofread this so I will be making some edits on the future!

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purplesauris · 4 years ago

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Housesitting For Your Best Friend 101

This is inspired by something that @witcher-and-his-bard and I were talking about late last night that has sprung from my brain with very little coaxing.

Find it on AO3 here!

“You’re sure.” The question is phrased more as a statement, but Jaskier rolls his eyes all the same, grinning. “I can-”

“Geralt, dear, I may be a great many things, like dashingly handsome, a great lover, patron of the arts-” Jaskier stops when Geralt coughs into his fist, blue eyes narrowing until Geralt straightens up and quirks a brow as if to say what? “But if I cannot look after your apartment for a week, then consider my move back home to be raised further by my mother imminent.”

Geralt doesn’t say anything for a long moment, amber eyes staring down the man in front of him. Jaskier to his credit, takes Geralt gently by the arm, and then with more strength than his frame might suggest, shoves Geralt toward the door and his waiting bags. “Go already, you brute, I’ll be fine.”

“Text me if you need me to come home.” He finally stoops to grab his bags, lingering by the door for a moment more before Jaskier pantomimes kicking him out and down the stairs. Once the door clicks shut Jaskier throws the bolt, turning with hands on his hips to survey the living room. He’s been here more times than he can say, but there’s something intimate about Geralt trusting him enough to ask him to watch his place. The old couch that he lugged up three flights of steps is still here, still fraying at the edge of the cushions and garish blue flowers finally fading. Jaskier had insisted they head to the nearest estate sale to find the beast after walking in to see the sad sight of Geralt’s living room with nothing more than a sagging armchair in front of the tv.

First order of business: check the list that he knows Geralt spent hours thinking over before finally writing it down. It takes a few minutes of searching, but he finally finds it stuck to the fridge with a horse head magnet. Weird.

water plants

care for roach

clean up after yourself

Well, this seems easy enough. Jaskier laughs at the third task, knowing what hell he’d get if this place was less than spotless upon Geralt’s return. It’s fifteen minutes later while he’s standing on the balcony staring at the plants and wondering how much each one gets, that he spies the little arrow wrapping around to the back of the paper. There, Geralt has written out exact instructions for all of his plants, with helpful notes on how much water they get, and which ones to bring inside at night.

Roach is much easier; the brown tabby keeps to herself for the most part, and will let Jaskier know with a righteous fury if she needs something. Jaskier spends a good long while playing with her and brushing her fur before she runs off again, having had enough of his company for the time being.

Jaskier is in the kitchen, debating whether he wants to order in or attempt to cook when his phone buzzes. It’s a vibration he would know in his sleep- Geralt had found some way to set a specific vibration, and Jaskier was too lazy to change it back.

G: At the airport. Did you find the list?

Warmth blooms in his chest as he takes in the text. There’s nothing that should make him feel this way, but knowing that Geralt is still worrying is almost cute. Not that he would think of his best friend that way, of course. He shoots Geralt a picture of him posing next to the fridge with the list, tongue stuck out and number three carefully crossed off. Geralt’s reply is nothing more than a frowning face, which took Jaskier months to get him to use, but it makes Jaskier chuckle. This will be a piece of cake.

-*-

Jaskier is four days in and trying to find something to watch. Normally he would just use Netflix like a normal person, but Geralt’s internet has been spotty for the past hour and Jaskier is about ready to die of boredom. His only problem, it seems, is the complete lack of organization. And the insane amount of movies that include horses. Spirit sits right at the front- one of the few animated movies that Geralt will admit to liking, and the others Jaskier has never heard of before. Well, since Geralt doesn’t seem to care, Jaskier sets out with the intent to alphabetize everything, and while he’s got the shelves empty, dusts as well, just to prove to Geralt that he can clean too.

He’s six movies in to reshelving them when he pulls out Flicka, staring at the black horse on the front cover. He’s noticed a pattern so far- most of the movies involving horses have dark coloring, and that gets him thinking about archetypes within horse movies. Not that he’s ever seen any of the ones on Geralt’s shelf. Out of curiosity he pops the case open, staring at the disc within and wondering if he really wants to subject himself to a movie he knows nothing about past the horse and girl on the front cover. He’s going to watch it with Geralt sooner or later, he thinks, so he shrugs, grabbing for the disc. The little tab in the middle releases with a pop, and Jaskier watches in slow motion horror as the disc goes tumbling out.

Jaskier fumbles, trying to catch the disc before it hits the ground, but to his horror the disc bounces off the carpet twice before he hears a distinct snapping noise. No. It fell on the carpet. It’s fine. His heart pounds in his ears as he sets the case down and pads over to where the disc has settled, cracked almost nearly in half. The curses that Jaskier lets out are particularly colorful, and if he weren’t panicking, he would almost be proud of the ones he’d created. Faintly in his panic he hears the door open, and he whips up, eyes wide and breathing ragged as he stares at the door. Geralt isn’t supposed to be back for another three days yet how-

“What is that?” Yennefer’s voice is cool, but he can hear the amusement running beneath it.

“Yennefer! I- it’s nothing.” He takes a discreet step in front of his mistake, hoping she’ll leave it be. She never does, though, violet eyes sweeping the room and settling on the pile of movies on the coffee table waiting to be sorted. He clears his throat, and her eyes flick back to meet his briefly. “What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you.”

“Me?” His voice cracks, and he clears his throat again.

“We were supposed to meet for lunch. It’s almost two.” Jaskier swears again, and Yennefer finally steps fully inside, kicking the door shut and crossing her arms. “It’s a good thing I remembered you were house sitting. That wouldn’t happen to be one of Geralt’s movies laying on the ground, would it?”

“Uh…” Yennefer takes a few steps into the apartment, and Jaskier takes two steps back, the edge of the disc pressing into his heel. He shuffles his feet a little, not wanting to cause more damage and watching helplessly as Yennefer picks up the open case, closing it to read the front. Her eyes flick up to meet his, and for a moment she almost looks as panicked as Jaskier feels. She’s better at hiding it though, and her panic turns into a crooked smile, smug and slightly condescending.

“That’s Geralt’s second favorite movie.”

“I don’t-”

“The one that’s currently on the floor, broken I’m assuming.” Jaskier can feel the blood drain from his face, and he nervously glances down at the broken disc.

“Fuck.” He stoops to pick up the disc now that Yennefer has figured him out, and stares with dismay at the crack running up the length of it. Yennefer holds out the case, and Jaskier gingerly snaps the disc back in place. “I have to get him another, if he finds out I broke it he’ll never let me come over again.”

Yennefer crosses her arms, that same smug smile on her face, letting Jaskier squirm as he thinks about where he’s going to find a movie from fucking 2006. Immediately his first thought is to go on eBay, see if anyone is selling the movie in some kind of good condition. “Well, lets go then.”

“W-wha…” The dark haired woman pins him with a look, and she motions for him to get his shoes on, standing impatiently by the door.

“Let’s go see what we can find.” Jaskier shoves his feet into his boots, grabbing for his keys and wallet and stopping to shrug on a sweater much too big for him when he sees snowflakes fluttering down outside. Yennefer raises a perfect eyebrow at that but doesn’t say anything, just leads Jaskier to her car, giving his shoes a look before letting him into the car.

They search four different stores and three thrift shops, but the only copies of the movie he finds are in almost worse condition than the one currently at Geralt’s house. He’s really panicking by the time Yennefer drops him off with food and a stern command to find something before Geralt gets home. Jaskier puts the movies back haphazardly, not caring about the order they’re in anymore. He parks himself on the floor in front of the couch, food on the coffee table and laptop balanced on his knees. He eats bites in between scrolling, and to his immense relief, there are over two thousand results for the movie. It only takes him a couple more hours of agonizing to find one that looks to be in good enough condition, and promises to get to him within two days. It’ll be tight, but as long as nothing happens, Geralt will be none the wiser.

Jaskier makes his bed up on the couch and makes sure to bring in Geralt’s plants before bed, confident in his plan. Now to wait for it to ship, and Geralt to come back from visiting his adopted father.

-*-

It comes perfectly on time. The case is in better shape than even Geralt’s was before, but by now Jaskier has learned, and swaps the cases before tossing the broken disc. Onto the shelf it goes, no worse for wear, and Jaskier can breathe a sigh of relief. His place in Geralt’s house secure, Jaskier sets out to clean up the apartment some, wanting nothing else to go wrong. Geralt should be home in a few hours, and if he knows his best friend, he’ll be starving. A good hearty welcome back meal is in order, and while Jaskier would never say he’s a fantastic cook, he’s proficient at the least and knows what his friend would like.

Roach joins him while he’s cooking, stubbornly perching herself on his shoulder and watching his every move as he chops vegetables. He’s made this particular dish before, and knows that Geralt likes it more than he’ll say. Jaskier pops the freshly filled pot pie into the oven with 10 minutes before Geralt is supposed to get home- not that he’s counting or anything. Roach has settled herself like a scarf around Jaskiers neck, head tucked under his chin and little cat breaths puffing onto his neck. He’s sweltering in the heat of the kitchen and Roach’s long fur, but he would never squander any love that Roach chooses to show him.

Jaskier is wiping up any excess mess when he hears the door click open softly, followed by the thump of bags hitting the floor. Roach perks up, ears tickling Jaskier’s cheek as she pulls herself into a standing position on his left shoulder. Her claws dig uncomfortably into him while she moves, but he forgives her. He’s still wearing Geralt’s sweater after all, and the material is just thick enough to keep him from getting maimed.

“Jaskier? Roach?” Geralt’s voice is tired, and Jaskier pops out of the kitchen, grinning and heart beating wildly when he catches sight of Geralt. His white hair is wet with snow, and curls loosely wherever it’s free from his ponytail.

“Geralt! You’re home just in time. Was your flight okay?” Geralt doesn’t say anything for a few moments, eyes dark as they flick over Jaskier, down to his toes and then up again. He holds his hands out for Roach, and she leaps off of Jaskier’s shoulder easily, landing in his waiting arms. Geralt is still staring at him as he allows Roach to snuggle into his arms, but Jaskier is used to this.

“Yes.” He finally says, not saying a word when jaskier comes forward to work him out of his wet jacket, one arm at a time so Roach doesn’t have to be set down. Jaskier can see Geralt’s nostrils flare, and he glances over at the kitchen where the pot pie Jaskier has crafted has begun to smell heavenly. “You’re wearing my sweater.”

Jaskier pauses, cheeks flushed faintly, before he shrugs, chuckling softly. “Somehow I neglected to pack any sweaters, and well, it’s a long train ride home.”

“Hmm. Food?”

“Almost done. Sit, I’ll bring it out.” Geralt nods, toeing off his shoes and tucking them away before settling on his couch. Jaskier ducks into the kitchen to get his pie out and serve it, careful not to burn himself (again). Geralt takes the hot plate from him gently when Jaskier holds it out to him, taking in a deep breath and shooing Roach when she tries to snag a bite of the chicken inside.

They eat in comfortable silence, Jaskier’s feet tucked under Geralt’s thigh to avoid a chill and Geralt only grunting at the cold that seeps through his jeans. Jaskier is halfway done with his pie when he sees Geralt pause with his fork midway to his mouth, a crease forming between his brows and eyes flicking back and forth.

“Geralt?”

“My movies.” Jaskier looks over, sighing and laughing nervously.

“Oh, I uh, was dusting so I moved them, but I couldn’t remember what order they went in. Sorry.” Can Geralt hear his heartbeat? Jaskier worries for a second that he’s going to be found out, but Geralt only frowns and goes back to eating. Jaskier thanks whatever god is out there watching over him and digs back into his food, grateful for the dropped subject. Geralt finishes before Jaskier, staring once again at the shelf full of dvds with a frown on his face. The longer he stares the more nervous Jaskier gets, and he hops up when he finishes, grabbing Geralt��s plate.

“Be right back!” Geralt looks at him briefly as he disappears into the kitchen, and Jaskier thinks he’s going to have a stroke, there’s no way he’s going to get away with it. While he’s freaking out in the kitchen he figures he might as well actually do the dishes, just to say he was doing something other than hiding in here. He’s definitely not hiding in here from his best friend because he broke a dvd and had to replace it. The warm water and bubbles are a nice distraction, but there aren’t many dishes that haven’t already been done and Jaskier is running out of time to just stand here.

Jaskier gathers whatever courage he has left and dries his hands off once he’s certain he can handle more questions, slipping back into the living room. Geralt’s back is to him, and Jaskier definitely doesn’t take a moment to admire the muscles he can see through Geralt’s shirt. Definitely not. Geralt doesn’t seem to pay him much mind, shuffling his dvds around and putting them back in whatever nonsensical order they were in before. Jaskier isn’t quite sure what to do now, or if Geralt expected him to leave, so he goes about gathering his things so that he’s ready at a moment’s notice. He’s hunting for a stray sock he can’t seem to find when Geralt turns sharply on his heel, a white dvd case in hand.

“What did you do?” Geralt’s voice is soft, but Jaskier can hear the accusation in his tone.

“Hmm?” Jaskier looks up from where he’s crammed his head under the couch, eyes widening when he takes in the movie that Geralt is holding. “Uh, the dishes? Pack? I don’t-”

“It’s different.”

“What is, Geralt?” Geralt holds out the case, and with a growing amount of dread, Jaskier realizes that Geralt is both way too asinine and way too meticulous to not find out. “Your movie? I told you, I-”

“Jaskier.” The frown is back, and Jaskier only lasts a moment more under those disappointed eyes before he sighs.

“Right, so uh, I might have had a little accident while cleaning, but I fixed it!” Geralt looks down at the case, and then back up at Jaskier, quirking a brow as if he doesn’t believe him. “Stop looking at me like that! I- ugh, okay so I was cleaning and your organization was just awful- not the point, so I was going to organize your shelf but then-”

“You’re rambling.” Geralt cuts in, expression smooth. “The point?”

“The disc fell out and I don’t know how carpet could damage it, but it uh, kind of broke? In half? So Yennefer-I know- took me to a few stores but we couldn’t find it, so I had to go on eBay to get a new copy.”

Geralt says nothing for a few long moments, just staring at Jaskier while he squirms, looking anywhere but at Geralt.

“Jaskier.” He looks up at the mention of his name, and Geralt is still looking at him, though this time his gaze is warm, and there’s a small tilt to his lips. A hint of a smile that he’s trying to hold back. The sight brings tears to Jaskier’s eyes and he has to blink a few times to keep them at bay.

“You aren’t mad?”

“No.” Jaskier reaches up to rub at his eyes, laughing and shaking his head.

“I must look like an idiot, worried over a dvd, but I didn’t want you to come home to me having broken something after you trusted me to-”

“I have more than one.” Geralt interrupts, and jaskier really should tell him to break that habit.

“Huh?”

“I have more than one copy. For when the other breaks.” For a second Jaskier doesn’t hear what Geralt said. Once his brain catches up to him he bursts out laughing, hardly able to catch a breath between bouts of incredulous laughter.

“So I didn’t- didn’t break your only copy?”

“No. But,” Jaskier has quieted down a bit more now, and Jaskier almost can’t handle the soft expression Geralt is looking at him with. “Thank you, for replacing it.”

“You’re welcome.” Jaskier smiles at him, and they stand there, smiling, until Geralt clears his throat awkwardly.

“So uh, did you want a ride home?”

“Oh, yes, yes that would be lovely. Lead the way.” Jaskier gathers his things, and Geralt doesn’t say a word when he drops Jaskier off, still wearing a sweater much too big for him.

#the witcher #geralt of rivia #jaskier #geraskier #kind of #its a modern au

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ubemango · 5 years ago

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Year after year (after tear after tear)

note 1: I wrote this last semester after watching deathly hallows for the one hundredth time... I got mad that Ron/Hermione were a thing instead of Harry/Hermione ANYWAY that’s not the point of the fic but U know that feel when Ron/Lavender were together and Hermione was crying the whole time??? Yeah that’s the point of this fic. Also based off a drabble I didn’t reupload; this is the revamped version ig

+ thank you Luna and Miss Minnie for helping me out and reading through this <3

note 2: “Ella will u ever write anything other than college au” Nope die mad about it

PAIRING. jeongguk/being in love, reader/crying, taehyung/being a good friend:( GENRE. sad romance. it’s college angst RATED. T WORD COUNT. 3.4k WARNINGS. I don’t mean it. SUMMARY. Taehyung just wants you to have a good birthday.

let me go, let me stay, let me live in oblivion...

cehryl, sway

(1)

He doesn’t even need to say she’s there. It’s the same succession of movement every time: his spine will go rigid, then his eyes will light up. Maybe he’ll twiddle his thumbs under the table too. He fidgets like he is.

“I really like her,” Jeongguk sighs.

“That’s good,” you answer.

You stab at the margins of your notebook with your pen. Taehyung doesn’t say anything. He sits across you, unwounded and wholly unbothered, taking another bite of his messy sandwich. At least he cares enough to send you a look that says he understands your vexation.

“Why don’t you go talk to her then?” Taehyung says.

Jeongguk fidgets a little more. He sends another forlorn look past Taehyung’s shoulders. “She hasn’t texted me back.”

“When’d you text her?”

“Like two hours ago.”

“Hmph,” Taehyung grumbles. Instantly you think of Jeongguk waking up with the urgent need to text Jieun. You resist making the disturbed noise that itches at your throat.

“Maybe she’s just too busy,” Jeongguk argues.

“Well she is carrying a billion textbooks,” you chime in. And you’re not wrong. Jieun stands near the pizza station, contemplating lunch choices with the burdens of fourth-year organic chemistry and animal physiology in her tiny hands. She’s dainty in that pretty way. If you had the gall, you’d be green with jealousy, but even you can’t deny her charm.

“Maybe I’ll go help her—“

Taehyung slams his hands across the table on his arm. “Do not.”

“She’s so cute.” Jeongguk resigns, sitting back down.

If you were kinder to yourself, you’d excuse your presence for the sake of finding solace in your homework elsewhere. There’s a weird mixture of pity and rapture that keeps you glued to your seat though; while you loathe to sit out one more second of Jeongguk foaming at the mouth for annoyingly-pretty-Jieun, there’s also the anchor in your heart that weighs you right back down to him.

In a less metaphoric translation: he cut his hair and he looks really good.

“So are you… talking talking?” Taehyung asks through mushy bread.

“Sorta,” Jeongguk says. “I mean—she and I talk through Snap.”

“Does she save your messages?”

“Nope.”

“Jesus,” Taehyung says again.

“I do,” Jeongguk interjects.

“Christ.” Taehyung snorts. “Do you guys have any classes together?”

“A-level anthropology. She needed it for her degree requirement.”

It makes sense. “So she was the fourth year you had to talk to for group discussion,” you recall.

“Yeah.”

“And now you’re in love with her.” (Taehyung gives you a sharp stare.)

“Well—sure,” Jeongguk replies. “I don’t know. She’s cool. The other day she was watching a stream of someone playing Resident Evil and my heart was so—big for her.”

You scrunch your nose. He says this like you didn’t come over the second it came out and took turns playing it with him but you won’t bring it up. “Cute,” you say instead.

“Oh.” You watch his phone light up on the table. “It’s—she messaged me back.”

Jeongguk stays preoccupied tapping furiously on his screen. Taehyung finishes his sandwich with a gulp, offering you one more glance of understanding. Your chest hurts.

(2)

There’s a movie playing in the student lounge tonight. Some high-definition, revolutionary take on pop culture you haven’t watched the trailer for yet. It’s Jeongguk who invites you.

He’s saved you a seat next to him on the couch, buttered popcorn hot on his lap. “You’re late,” Jeongguk complains when you fall into the cushion next to him.

“I don’t like movies.”

“But you like me.”

You know it’s a joke. But offence comes in the form of a shiver that runs right down your back, and if he was any closer he probably would have felt it. “Sure,” you answer instead. “Taehyung not here yet?”

“Nah.” He tips the bucket in your direction in offering, and you scoop a handful of kernels. “He had some band rehearsal or something. He’ll probably come later.”

The opening scenes drone into a buzz you pay half-attention to. A lot of people are here tonight, and the convention of silence isn’t something they really care about because you can barely hear what you’re not even trying to listen to. Jeongguk groans. “So loud,” he says.

You shrug. “Are you sad about that?”

“Shut up.” He clicks his tongue. Spreads his legs and leans back attractively, and you cross your legs to distract yourself from the sudden track of desire that makes a course through your head. Literally any boy could do the same douchey thing and you’d find it gross, but Jeongguk was never any boy. Jeongguk is clumsy and knocks his knees against yours and apologizes quick under his breath, and you notice he hasn’t looked at you once.

You don’t put it past him. You probably shouldn’t be so preoccupied with your messy love life when the one it concerns is right next to you. But it’s easy to get lost in the lull of the movie you’re not here for, seeking out Jeongguk’s presence, because it’s what you do when you don’t care about the consequences.

You turn to him when he nudges your shoulder.

“Hey,” he whispers.

“Yeah?”

“I see Jieun.”

Of course he sees Jieun. You know how it works. The signal that blares the second you notice something’s right about the room, your periphery shrinking into the one thing, and it was Jeongguk sitting on this couch. You didn’t even need to search for him because he was just there. Now Jieun is just there and and you’re here but not to Jeongguk.

Never for Jeongguk.

You nod in agreement. “Yeah. Up front?”

“Mhm.”

The glow of the screen surrounds her, almost like she’s some holy deity. Trust Jieun to make the back of her head just as pretty as her face. There’s bitterness, but there’s also acceptance, and that’s what’s mashing at your insides. “She’s alone,” you remark.

“She says she likes going to the movies here,” Jeongguk says, and it clicks.

“So you’re here for her.”

He scratches his chin, frowning. “I—maybe. Yeah,” he flounders.

You're quiet for the sake of being polite, but a million derisive words jumble quiet in your head. Like you’d said earlier, you don’t even like movies. But it meant an hour and a half of wondering if his thigh would touch yours. An amalgamation of all the sweetest things you could imagine happening in this two-seater, and he won’t spare you one glance.

You find your words before you start floundering, too. “So are you gonna talk to her?”

“I want to.”

“You should if you want to.”

“I just—“ he pauses when the dialogue continues loudly on-screen— “I… have a question.”

“Sure.”

“Friend to friend.” Your insides freeze up. For a strange couple seconds, you contemplate laughing. “I just—I feel so clueless. I like her a lot but it feels like it’s going nowhere. One second I’m texting her and it really seems like it’s going somewhere and then she doesn’t talk to me for two days.”

“Sounds rough,” you offer.

“It’s annoying. I don’t know. I mean we’re nowhere near exclusive but I’m still sorta hurt, y’know? Is it—is it wrong for me to feel like that? Am I allowed to feel this sad?”

Jeongguk takes the pause for your initial thoughts to dump a handful of popcorn in his mouth. You both stare forward, and you know who he’s looking at. “Is that your question?” You mumble.

“Yeah.”

You stick your hand in the bucket. Jeongguk takes his hand out. “You’re allowed to be sad.”

“Hm,” he huffs.

“It’s a bad feeling—like you’re going somewhere with someone when you really aren’t,” you continue. You bring your knees up to your chest, and if your shoes scuff the couch you don’t really care. “It’s not your fault. I get it. You get the—the hope that she’ll keep talking to you, because if she’s not then it feels like she doesn’t care, right? And it all just blows up in your face when you don’t talk but when you do it feels good again. You know. Like a cycle.”

Jeongguk nods fast. “A dumb cycle,” he snorts, and you can’t help but agree.

“You’ll be fine,” you say.

“Thanks.” He bumps his elbow against yours in an effort to lighten up the mood. “You know. Whoever you end up with? They’re really lucky.”

Ouch. That’s literally the last thing you’d planned on hearing tonight, but you’ll take it anyway. “You’re too nice to me.”

“I mean it!”

“Thanks.” You’ve never doubted his sincerity—never will. But when it works against your favour, it’s hard to hide being terse. Especially when you have nothing left to say.

On-screen, a couple shares a passionate kiss.

“I don’t like this movie,” you decide.

Jeongguk hums. “Sorry.”

The moment is done. You had come for loveless possibilities; watched them disintegrate with every word Jeongguk spoke. The rational part of your brain reminds you it isn’t his fault.

It’s always yours.

“You should go sit with her,” you encourage.

“Really?”

If Jeongguk’s trying to hide his excitement, it’s not working. He sucks in his bottom lip. Something he does when he’s contemplating anything nerve-wracking, and with the awful feeling stabbing your stomach, you remember how hard it is to forget the small things about him. “Go. I’ll save this seat for Taehyung.”

“Alright,” he resolves. He hands you the popcorn bucket. Gives you one last hopeful look and bounds off to the front without warning.

You watch him whisper to get Jieun's attention. She adjusts fast, it seems—he slides in the couch right next to her in an instant. When his shoulder touches hers, your heart shatters.

Taehyung doesn’t show up. When the movie’s done, Jeongguk and Jieun are nowhere to be seen.

At least you got the popcorn to yourself.

(3)

“You’re such a masochist,” Taehyung declares.

“Maybe.”

"Stop talking to him."

"Stop talking to our best friend?" No one really comes to the library on weekends. It's a void you signed up to volunteer in, shelving books in peace. But this time Taehyung insisted he come by to help you out. Really he'd just felt bad that he couldn't make it to movie night last week, and he'd listened to the failed outcome with kind ears—and unkind advice. "I can't just—do that."

"I mean like taking a friendship break," he suggests. You hand him the generous weight of a British literature anthology to slot in. "What the fuck. This is so heavy. Anyway go join a club or something. Distract yourself."

"So much work."

"Yeah but would you rather die every time J-word comes around?" Taehyung frowns when you push the trolley ahead without him. "Priorities. Priorities!"

His volume is a touch higher than the acceptable whisper, and you make sure his foot falls victim to the sudden stop of the wheels. He grumbles when it scuffs his shoe. "It's not easy!" You scold tightly.

"Neither is sticking around him all the time! It's been three years. We graduate soon. And I don't want to sound mean, but you need to deal with all of this better."

What he means? An honest effort. What you take from it? Nothing, because dealing with it means confronting your feelings with a rationality you don't have. You'll never be poised enough for that.

"It's not easy," you repeat.

You're getting restive, rifling through the spines of books with unsteady hands. You want to blame the coffee you had before coming in, but the more you succumb to Taehyung's comfort, the more you unravel. He does nothing but watch now. "Are you okay?" He asks. "Like really?"

Easy question. You still hesitate. "Nope."

He sighs like he didn't want that answer. "It's been a long time, huh."

Of what, he doesn't say. He doesn't need to. You know what the context is—Jeongguk became a constant the minute you'd exchanged hellos in first year. Your friendship was never an extravagant affair: just something you'd pursued with no romantic prompt whatsoever, because statistics isn't the easiest for people who are only doing it for the credit. He's always been good at easy things.

It's all about happenstance. How saying hi to a kind face in a cold classroom means unfolding three years worth of tumult. You think of all the fairytales you’ve lived: fifth-grade harbingers of cheek kisses, high school promises that would bring you to the ends of the Earth. Now, a lost cause, because college isn’t grounds for fair endings, and the authors of your fate are not kind. How easy it would be to just pick it up and shove it along with the other books you push into the shelf.

You can't help but mirror Jeongguk's anguish. "I'm stupid," you confess, rounding the next aisle to crouch and stock the bottom of the bookcase.

Taehyung hums. "You're not."

"It's my fault."

"It's not your fault," he argues. "You're just good at loving someone. But that doesn't mean it feels good. Don't be mad when I say what I'm about to say."

"Okay," you caution.

"Sometimes I want to punch your head," Taehyung explains. He tuts when you make a target of his ankle with the hardcover in your hand. "You know? Pinch the I love Jeongguk nerves till they go away."

"You're very nice.”

He runs a hand along the spines of the history of the Middle Ages. "I just don't like seeing you so hurt all the time,” he says. He walks on ahead wordlessly. You stare at the boring carpet of the floor, and think of how nice it is to have Taehyung as a friend.

(3.9)

There’s something particularly amazing about the drive to do well in school: the hyper-sensitive awareness of your dwindling sense of self, because late nights and dehydration have pretty much become personal traits at this point. You’ll look online for ways to do self-care later. It’s a fatalistic time of year, studying for exams. Maybe you should straighten your back, but no one’s in your room to scold you this late at night.

It takes two seconds past midnight for Taehyung to bulldoze through your text notifications.

[12:00:02 AM] taehyubg: HAPPY

[12:00:04 AM] taehyubg: BIRTHDAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [12:00:09 AM] taehyubg: Sorry u have to study about profit margins or whatever [12:00:15 AM] taehyubg: Take it easy 👌🏼

[12:00:30 AM] You: thank you :)

[12:00:38 AM] You: fhdfkjhsfkjf i’m tired!!!!! buy me coffee tomorrow as ur gift

[12:01:09 AM] taehyubg: Yeah

[12:01:13 AM] taehyubg: Maybe

[12:01:15 AM] taehyubg: :P

[12:01:29 AM] taehyubg: Ok I’ll let u study. Seriously though. good luck!

[12:01:40 AM] You: thank u:) again lol

You lay your phone down flat. Too many temptations to consider if you keep the screen within your periphery, but that doesn't stop you from leaving the ringer on.

In the thoughtless state of staring at your loopy handwriting, you think of Jeongguk.

Maybe he’s hunched over his desk, too. Contemplating his own writing, because they’re incomprehensible and he’s too proud to give up the faux-cursive he’s learned for fast lecturers.

Or maybe he’s lying down in bed, considering sleep with tired eyes. Maybe he listens to the ticking of his clock. The seconds trailing past midnight, and maybe, you hope, maybe it’s still too early, because he's never forgotten your birthday before.

The shrieks of your phone scratching the wood on your desk ring loud. You try not to sink into sad possibilities. So you grab for it, and the split second before you swipe, you see Jeongguk’s face, and you sigh in relief.

“Hi,” his voice filters through the line. "Is it—am I too late? Is it late?"

"No. Not at all," you answer a little more breathlessly than you want to let on.

"Oh. Cool. Ha. How—how are you?"

Not an uncommon greeting but you thought—”I’m good."

"Good. You're studying too right? You have your exam tomorrow?"

"So you just called to check on me?"

"Sure."

"Ah. Okay," you whisper.

"Actually, no—I. I called because I just wanted someone to talk to. If that's okay."

The screen is strikingly cold on your hot cheek. If you focus hard enough, the atoms inside you might collide faster and burst into complete hysterics. You think the drama is warranted.

Of course he forgot your birthday.

"It's fine,” you mumble. “Are you okay?"

"I just—ahhh… Just nervous is all. Jieun, she—we’re seeing another movie tomorrow night, so."

"Well you're just watching a movie."

"Yeah but. I don't know. I don't have you, this time."

You could analyze the irony of that sentence but then you'd really explode. The softness of his words are stifling. "Sorry."

"I just want it to be perfect," he says.

"That's good."

Jeongguk makes a rough noise. Stretching, probably. "Are you sure I'm not calling too late?"

"Positive," you answer. Rigid in your posture, like how he changes his stance when he sees Jieun. Now, you don't really see anything. Just the blur of the oddities of your messy notes and the very real truth of the boy who knows nothing, sitting in his room, oblivious to the pounding of your heart. Your head. It hurts to keep your eyes open.

"Cool. Thanks," he sighs. "Thanks for—uh. Listening. I keep talking about... her. Don't I?"

"Yeah, but. We can't help who we like, can we."

"Right."

Tonight he talks about her pretty fingernails, and her shiny hair. The buzzing in your ears cuts him off thirty minutes into the phone call. You think you might convince yourself to spew the polemic sitting ugly under your tongue, so you bid him a hasty goodbye with the excuse of covering content you haven't gotten to yet.

He hangs up first. You feel much, much older.

(4)

There’s a bench on the east side of campus, across the iron statue of a revered professor. It’s decorated with a dandelion flower crown. A bird alights on its head. Taehyung meets you with a medium coffee, and a muted smile.

"You did good," he says.

You give him an attempt at a grateful look. Today, nothing sits right: the exam was hellish, and the skin of your ring finger throbs red from writing too hard. The loom of your headache threatens a siege but you sip at the heat of your coffee before you can think about it. “Thanks.”

Taehyung sighs into his seat. “Nice weather,” he jokes. He points at the chubby swallow currently chirping high noises of delight. “It’s saying happy birthday.”

“That’s cute.”

“Speaking of a little birdie,” he clears his throat, “heard our little fledgling was psyched for another date soon.”

You are very aware. And it’s not like he had to be cautious about bringing the subject up—Taehyung’s as much of an insider about Jeongguk’s love life as much as you are victim. Friendship codes are complicated. Taehyung knows how much you hurt. “He called me last night.”

“He did?”

“Oh yeah. Told me all about how he wanted everything to be perfect,” you recall. You feel the daggers of Taehyung’s gaze on your face. “I—I don’t know anything anymore.”

He shrugs. “You’re smart.”

“He didn’t remember it was my birthday.”

“So did you remind him?”

“No,” you admit.

“You’re smart,” Taehyung repeats. “Letting him get all in his head. Makes his downfall that much better.”

You take refuge in his aggressive comfort, the dying warmth of the cup in your hands. The grip you have, tightens. “So what I’m hearing is that you’re on my side.”

“I don’t give a fuck about Jieun this, Jieun that.” He clicks his teeth. “Maybe I do. I don’t know. But if all that it does is make you so small like this…”

The swallow has been pecking at the professor’s glasses. It takes a moment to reflect, twisting its neck in a robotic staccato. Then it flies off. Up, up—flapping and struggling, and it soars right past the windows of the student lounge.

Jeongguk and Jieun make a very pretty pair waiting in line for free popcorn. Taehyung lets you squeeze his arm.

“Is it supposed to feel like this?” You falter in the question.

“No,” he says. He accepts your tears with his hard shoulder. “It shouldn’t. But happy birthday anyway.”

#bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #bts #jungkook #ubemango fic #f: year after year

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anystalker707 · 4 years ago

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YOU

Pairing: Gerard Way x Reader Genre: Angst / fluff TW: Stockholm syndrome, kidnapping Summary: [Inspired by the Netflix series YOU] Gerard kidnaps (y/n) after noticing his feelings aren’t returned.

"I know, Ray, but what the fuck can I do if I don't love Gerard back?" I release a frustrated sigh as furrowing my eyebrows to show it better how desperate I am about the subject. My eyes travel to the empty cup of coffee resting in front of me; I start playing with the small spoon next to it in an attempt of keeping a part of my mind too busy to freak out. "I know much he tries to show it or get me to love him back, but it just..." At the lack of the answer I look for, I wrinkle my nose. "doesn't tick off, y'know? I like him so much, but he isn't the one." And it kind of leaves me guilty knowing so, but I can literally do nothing about it. Pressing my lips together, I look at Ray without expecting an specific reaction, just showing him I really got no clue about what to do.

At first, there's no response coming from Ray, but he exhales tiredly a few seconds later, raising a hand to rub his forehead - I don't judge, we've been in this for long enough to Gerard confess to me in five different ways with a considerable amount of time between each confession. "It's just..." He chews on his bottom lip, seeming to be in a constant argument with his own mind as his eyes dart around the cafe, like if the answer for all of our problems would be in a random detail or a word coming from the other costumers while they talk. "He seems too in love, y'know? He doesn't even seem to be anywhere near accepting you don't love him back and it worries me. The higher you fly, the worst is the fall." Desperation shows itself across his features too, mixed with a kind of worry that's shared between both of us.

We know Gerard is a good guy. Both of us consider and like him a lot, as a friend, so it's difficult seeing him in such state. I don't even know how to act when he confesses to me and I need to do something that isn't too harsh, but doesn't give him any hint that I'm interested in him too. I'm constantly worried I'll do something wrong that ends up in him hating me or falling in depression or something. It's the dilemma the guys and I are facing now - Ray is mainly trying to trace a plan while Frank and I observe Gerard; analyzing the previous confessions, observing how he acts now and trying to predict the next one.

"I don't know how," Ray catches my attention once again, raising his eyebrows and locking a strong eye contact to show confidence. "but we're going to sort this out, okay?"

I'm even kind of relieved when walking back home after Ray and I said our goodbyes, but it felt like a brick was placed over my chest when I saw Gerard waiting for me, sitting on the sidewalk in front of my house. He notices me approaching when I'm about two houses away, so he promptly stands up and watches me expectantly, until I'm finally standing a foot away from him.

"Hi, (n/n)." Gerard says with a sweet smile, tilting his head as he gazes at me. "I was wondering if you didn't want to come over to mine?"

Oh, no... "Gerard..." I say in a hopeless tone, forcing a smile.

"Please!" His eyes widen in desperation, like if his life depended on me accepting to go over to his place. "It's going to be nice. I just want to talk with you. I promise I won't do anything you don't want me to, hm?" He furrows his eyebrows as looking at me through his eyelashes. Impossible to refuse.

Slowly, I come back to consciousness. Whatever, it's Sunday, so I don't need to be up so early, right? Shifting on my place, I shift closer to the wall to notice it's... different. The texture, it's like glass. Curious, I open my eyes, blinking them until I'm able to see clearly. And it's really glass I've got my forehead against. Wait, where the fuck am I?

The panic makes me sit up immediately to analyze my surroundings. This place... it's not familiar at all. It looks like a normal wide, dark bedroom and what catches my attention is a shelf - in which a lot of books and animation figures rest. My eyes avert to analyze the glass matter and I realize I'm inside what seems to be a glass chamber - inside it, there's a desk with some books over it, holes so I can breathe, the mattress I'm over and it's connected to a wall with a door on it. There's also a small compartment with doors on both sides, probably so things can be passed from a side to another. It creeps me out the way my shoes and jacket are carefully placed aside; like if someone wanted me to feel comfortable.

My analysis isn't able to go further since a voice startles me. "I see you're done checking the place." And, on a spot next to the dresser, Gerard leans against the wall with arms crossed over his chest and a calm smile over his face.

"G-Gerard?" I stutter, not understanding what's happening. Why am I inside this place? Did he lock me in here? No, he wouldn't. While questions continue to flood my mind, I slowly stand up with trembling legs until I'm against the chamber's door - which's locked - then place my hand against it, with my eyes fixed on Gerard. Blurry spots form themselves around my hand and on the place my breathe reaches. "Why am I here?" I ask weakly.

Silence is all I have until the male moves, stopping once he's in front of me. His extremely calm expression is confusing, not to mention how it looks... relieved or happy, I guess. "(N/n)..." Gerard blinks a couple of times in an almost disappointed manner. "I've already told you about it so many times... How can you still not comprehend it?" Even with me expressing how confused I am, his expression doesn't change much, only gaining a pitying touch. "I love you!" He demonstrates a confidence that gets me admired. "If I don't have you," Gerard's eyebrows furrow in a worried tone as he observes his own finger tracing my hand from the other side of the extremely thick glass. "someone else will," The fact sounds like if it's the worst thing in the world. "and only I can love you the way you deserve." His hazel eyes flicker over mine, somewhere between expectant and... dazed?

"Gee." The word is barely heard from above my breathe, disappearing in the quietness of the room - a complete opposite to my head, where loud, loud thoughts try to be processed, trying to answer all the questions that began to flood my mind in the moment I woke up. Gerard's smile getting wider right before he starts to speak again is what snaps me out of it. Nothing, and I repeat, nothing is able to stop the yells that come from my mouth, yells for help while the male explains something about making the cage comfortable to me in a way he even gave up on the his bathroom and some books for me. "Help!" The yell even hurts my throat as I release it through one of the holes on the glass, even slamming my hands against the surface a few times.

"No one will be able to hear you!" Gerard chuckles, watching me with entertainment and an adore that I refuse to accept. "The basement is made in a way who's up there" He points to above us. "can hear nothing from here and vice versa. I thought very well about this." About what? And, as if reading my thoughts, he answers: "About where to keep you, sugar!" He says it in an obvious tone. "I knew you'd ask for help because you won't understand it at first, of course, and I was right." His eyebrows raise lightly, demonstrating certain pride. "It took a lot of work to do that." He knocks against the glass. "Thankfully Mikey isn't home most of the time, neither does he come down here. You're all mine, sugar..." Gerard's voice gains a dark tone that scares me; his pupils dilating as they flicker over me.

My brain seems to have forgotten how to react properly to things since all I do is to stand there, looking at Gerard with tears pouring down my face nonstop. Impossible, impossible, impossible! Gerard can't have done that, he can't...

"(N/n)? Sugar?" Gerard called after what seemed like hours of me firstly trying to find a way to escape and exploring the bathroom - to find out there's nothing to help me either - then leaning against the wall and sobbing almost until my head hurt. He stands there outside the glass, pulling a Starbucks cup along with a paper bag to inside the compartment. "I brought you coffee and some of your favorite food." Honestly, I don't find any will inside me or secure enough to answer him, even more in a way I don't demonstrate to be weaker than I already show to be. He patiently waits for the reply that never comes.

"You need to eat, dear." The sweetness and care laced on his voice make my stomach churn - how can someone sound like this while doing something so cruel? "We don't want you all weak in there, hm?" By the corner of my eyes, I'm able to see the sickening smile. It takes about a couple of minutes until he finally moves, walking to his bed to sit by its edge, pulling a phone from over the mattress - the phone seems to be mine. "Also, don't worry about your friends being worried and all, because I already let them all know you needed to leave in a hurry because of unexpected family matters." As Gerard speaks, his eyes never leave the screen while his fingers work on pressing on it. "I'm liking and saving these band pictures for you because I know you like them so much, I'm also posting some little things like you do, so don't worry."

And why the fuck would I worry about that in a moment like this? What happens in his mind...?

And it's like this for a long time, around three nights, in which I watched Gerard's usual routine - he stays in his bedroom for most of the day, reading or drawing; he leaves before lunch and just comes back at night, after he probably solved all of his matters outside and spent some time with Mikey; sometimes he watches a movie before going to sleep or continues working on his art and the TV is on most of the time he's here, playing some popular channel or series in the background. The latter is honestly a good advantage since there isn't much to do in the cage. During the day, Gerard brings me things to eat - I also found clean clothes over the desk in one of the mornings - and is always trying to start a conversation with me.

Through the time, I concluded that if I want something to change, it being to get out of here or just the slightest improvement in my conditions, I inevitably need to talk to him. Something I learnt is that either I'm nice to him or there's no food. So, I've got to at least pretend to agree with him or something similar until he frees me. That leaded me to the current situation.

"Two movies." Gerard says, not even finished writing down the three games I mentioned some seconds I ago. He sits next to me by the other side of the glass with a small notebook and pencil in hands as I have my usual place on the mattress, having my back against the glass.

It gets me thinking for a moment, trying to decide something between what I like and what he likes, considering if I've got some kind of knowledge about the movies in case he wants to talk about it. "Episode V: The Empire Strikes Back and The Nightmare Before Christmas." And my answer seems to please him considering how he smiles, writing the names down with a nod.

"And finally," Pausing, his eyes travel over the sheet of paper briefly, probably checking something. "a series."

"Doctor Who."

Gerard is about to write down my immediate answer when he stops and looks at me with narrowed eyes. "Classic or current?"

"Classic." I answer confidently with a smile, making another one show across his lips as he writes down the answer. Of course he'd be pleased by it, I'm frequently seeing images of the Doctor, Sarah Jane and K-9 playing on his TV's screen, not to mention the books he's got on his shelf.

While Gerard reads what he's written in the past minutes - what's basically answers I gave him about my tastes in entertainment, from ten items to one per topic - I lean my head against the glass, observing him. Y'know, he looks kind of... cute like this. Some strands of hair are tucked behind his ears so they don't fall on his face; their dark tone contrast to how pale his skin is. The black shirt and Star Wars themed pajama pants give him a certain childish air that's increased whenever he cheers in excitement because of one of my responses. And he's not like the other kidnappers, y'know? The ones you see in movies or read about in the news. He's caring, cute. He actually cares if I'm eating properly, if I'm comfortable and if I'm not bored. I... I appreciate that.

My stare seems to be felt by Gerard and he looks up, his hazel eyes meeting mine with the same adore from days ago. His features soften when I raise a hand, resting it over the glass - he places his hand over mine then leans his head against the glass too, never breaking the eye contact. The moment is just comfortable, in a way I think I'm finally, for once, feeling okay while trapped inside the cage.

The following days aren't much different, apart from the fact I start really talking with Gerard. Like, normal conversations and friendly hanging outs, y'know? Sometimes he sets, still outside the glass, some pillows on the floor then sits on them with his blanket while we watch a movie of my choice and eat popcorn. We also continued playing small games like hangman or stop and, when he's out, I'm mostly distracted with a comic or book he gives me as music plays in the background. My favorite moments are when we're next to each other, still separated by that stupid glass, and talking about trivial things, like his day.

Sometimes I get to the point I forget my friends outside there, even if I like them a lot, and decide to let myself get lost in his hazel eyes. I think I never had noticed how beautiful he is until now. His skin seems to be so fucking soft and... I wish I could touch him. Hug him. It angers me how this stupid glass is set between us.

Thankfully, one morning, I'm awoken by the sound accidentally made once Gerard exchanged my used clothes for new ones, setting over the desk as usual. He stops himself from taking a step to outside the cage once hearing me calling his name quietly, in nothing above a whisper. It startles him and he turns around, smiling as walking backwards and pulling the door with him.

Wait, he's leaving? "No!" I call, fighting against the sleep that remains taking half of my consciousness, and sit up with an arm stretched towards him while the other gives me support to stay in the position. That makes him stop. "Please," I say hoarsely. "I-I need to touch you..." To show my need better, I move my fingers lightly. A confused glare is earned by me; looking around, Gerard throws my used clothes on a chair with his ones already covering it then leaves the glass door slightly open before moving towards me carefully.

"What's wrong, sugar?" His voice is all sweet and soft as he grabs my hand crouching down beside me. Ignoring that, I throw my arms around him to bring the male for a hug, which he thankfully returns - I melt in his arms as soon as he does that. So long. So fucking long since the last time I touched or was touched by anyone. Being involved by his arms is the best thing I've ever experienced in my entire life. Gerard is warm, he makes me feel better and... butterflies fly around my stomach. His smell fills my lungs like some sort of toxic substance, making the thoughts about him - that already fill my head permanently for a time now - go wild as I try to enjoy every single detail of the hug.

"Gerard..." And I can't even control how the words leave my mouth. "I love you, Gerard." I needed to say these words, I needed to. To let him know how much I appreciate everything he did, to express the way I need him like I need oxygen, how I need his touch. "I need you, Gerard." I say quietly, against the side of his face as I rub mine against it. My hands clutch around his shirt in case he leaves. But he won't, right? Well, I hope he doesn't. "You, you. I love you."

His chest vibrates due to the chuckle he releases, giving me a good sensation. One of his hands run up and down my side in an affectionate manner and he plays with my hair using the free one, clutching me close. Gerard's actions get me soft, melting in his arms. "I love you too, sugar. I've told you about it uncountable times." His lips speak against the side of my face, causing an amazing sensation as they move against it. "Only I am able to give you the love you deserve. You deserve the best." There's a soft kiss pressed to my cheek before he pulls away lightly - causing my grasp on his shirt to tighten - so he's able to lock our eyes in an intense gaze. "You deserve someone who knows you properly." And, finally, his lips meet mine in the best kiss I've ever experienced. It's so sweet and natural. Like if I'm in eternal thirst and it's the so much wanted water. "I love you too, (n/n)." The words are lost between another kiss we share.

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emy-loves-you · 4 years ago

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Wrong Numbers and Useless Gays Chapter 3

Welcome to the Chat, Virgil!

Virgil meets Logan and Patton, and learns that the three of them are more than just friends.

Morolo, endgame LAMP

Chapter 2 | Masterlist | Chapter 4

What d'ya say, storm cloud?

Virgil bit his lip, the question looping through his brain. What would he say to that? On one hand, he barely knew Roman. They only had two conversations, with Virgil having an anxiety attack halfway through one. How could Virgil trust him? On the other hand, having more people to talk to other than Janus and Remus… a part of Virgil, the part of him that wanted to cry at the thought of an injured animal, practically sang at the idea. If Patton and Logan were anything like Roman, Virgil knew that they would get along quite nicely. Worst-case scenario, I'll say something stupid and proceed to block their numbers forever.

V- (12:45 PM) As long as your friends are cool with it, I’m down.

R- (12:47 PM) Alrighty then. Just one moment, My Chemically Imbalanced Romance.

Virgil blushed at the nickname. Before he could even try and think of a response to that, Princey had already set up the group chat.

R- (12:48 PM) Hello my friends!

?- (12:48 PM) Hi Roro!

?- (12:48 PM) Salutations

V- (12:48 PM) Hey

?- (12:48 PM) Hi! You must Virgil! I’m Patton, he/him pronouns!

?- (12:49 PM) Good afternoon, Virgil. My name is Logan. I also use he/him pronouns.

V- (12:49 PM) Thanks, so I guess Roman’s already blabbed about me? You guys can call me V or Virge if you want, I’m not picky. He/him

L- (12:49 PM) Roman did not tell us much, beyond “He’s a creepy cookie with Pat’s humor and Lo’s smartness.” I also assume that you’re the one Roman assisted last night. I hope the exercises were beneficial.

V- (12:50 PM) They were, thanks

P- (12:50 PM) So, what do you like to do, Virgil?

Virgil bit his lip, glancing around his room. He really didn’t want to tell them about his music career. What if they recognized him and hated him because of his music. Or worse, what if they pretend that they’re friends with him so they can live off of his popularity? His eyes landed on sketch pads and suitcases. That could work.

V- (12:51 PM) I commission art. I also travel around with my friends.

P- (12:51 PM) Ooh, can we see some? Only if you're comfortable of course!

Virgil quickly flipped through his sketchbook. Most of his sketches were designs for The Dark Sides, so they were a no-go. Other drawings had some sort of gore or hellish imagery, and Virgil had a feeling that they wouldn’t like those drawings like Janus and Remus did. He eventually found a drawing that with no blood: it showed three men in dresses, each with their own style. The one on the left wore a black ball gown with yellow accents and yellow elbow-length gloves. The figure on the right had an emerald green mermaid dress with black accents and black fingerless gloves. The one in the center had a purple princess-style dress with black accents and no gloves. Virgil smiled as he sent the photo to the chat. Remus had explained that the only thing he missed from being a girl was the pretty dresses he wore. Janus and Virgil had responded by going to the mall and buying dresses for the three of them, saying that they didn’t need to be girls to wear dresses. Remus had been so happy he almost ripped the dress in his haste to put it on.

P- (12:54 PM) Ohmygosh that’s so pretty! Are these real dresses?

V- (12:54 PM) Yeah. My friend Remus (the one on the right) felt bad for wanting to wear a dress so me and Janus (the one on the left) went dress shopping with him.

R- (12:54 PM) Well, he shouldn’t feel bad. You three SLAY those dresses!

L- (12:55 PM) I also agree. While I don’t believe that I look good in a dress, you three successfully “pull it off.”

Virgil couldn’t help but blush at the compliments. Even though they bought the dresses for Remus’ sake, wearing more feminine clothing was an… invigorating experience. Virgil turned back to the conversation, attempting to change the topic of conversation.

V- (12:56 PM) Okay, I showed my stuff, now it’s your turn. What do you guys like to do?

P- (12:56 PM) I own a bakery/cafe! I just LOVE to bake sweets! Especially cookies! I also LOVE punny jokes!

L- (12:56 PM) I am currently working part-time at a local library. I am attempting to get a master's degree in astronomy and wish to work at the local planetarium. I enjoy reading and stargazing.

R- (12:57 PM) I’m currently an actor at the local theater, though I hope to soon reach my full potential on Broadway!

Virgil smiled at the descriptions. Three VERY different people, all with different dreams and ambitions. And now they’ve roped me into their merry band of misfits.

V- (12:58 PM) So, how did you guys meet each other?

P- (12:58 PM) Me and Lolo were neighbors before we got together. We met Roro in high school. I swear, I thought they hated each other for the longest time! Then I caught Lo and Ro making out junior year, so we sat and talked it out. Now we’re all happily living together!

Virgil blinked, rereading what Patton just typed. Got together? Are they…?

V- (12:59 PM) I’m sorry if this sounds rude, but… are you guys all dating each other?

L- (1:00 PM) Yes, we are. I assumed that Roman informed you of this.

P- (1:00 PM) Ro?

R- (1:04 PM) I apologize, Virgil. I wasn’t sure what your opinions were on polyamory. I hope you can forgive me.

Virgil snorted, imagining the four-minute delay was of Princey getting verbally beaten by Patton and Roman. He imagined Roman wearing a prince outfit (because he’s Princey) with his head in his hands. Patton would be standing over him, hands on his hips, and a disapproving scowl on his face. Logan would be standing next to Patton, arms crossed with an open book still in hand. He quickly turned back to the conversation, not wanting to make them worry.

V- (1:06 PM) It’s fine. I’ve got nothing against polyamory. I would be a hypocrite if I did,

L- (1:07 PM) Are you also in a polyamorous relationship?

V- (1:07 PM) I’ve never been in a relationship. But I WAS thinking about joining Janus and Remus’ relationship when they started dating since we all cared about each other and they offered. I thought about it for a while, but I eventually said no. I see them more like brothers, y’know? And they’re happy together, so it all worked out.

P- (1:08 PM) Good for you, Kiddo! I know it’s hard to tell people that you care about what you want, especially when you don’t know if they feel the same way. You made the right decision. Are you guys still friends?

V- (1:09 PM) Yeah, they’re my best friends. We do everything together

V- (1:09 PM) And “Kiddo”?

P- (1:10 PM) Sorry, you’re all my Kiddos, Kiddo!

L- (1:10 PM) Patton, there is the chance that Virgil is older than all of us.

P- (1:11 PM) Virgil, how old are you? We’re all 24!

Virgil sighed. Patton just gave away his age to someone he just met. I’m not dumb enough to do THAT. Oh, wait, yes I am.

V- (1:11 PM) 25

R- (1:12 PM) He’s just saying that so he’s older than us!

P- (1:12 PM) Ro! Virgil would NEVER lie for something so petty. Would you, Kiddo?

V- (1:13 PM) I mean, if I did you would never know so

R- (1:13 PM) SEE?!?

L- (1:14 PM) While this conversation has been truly invigorating to be a part of, I’m afraid it must end here. I have a shift at the library soon, Patton needs to go manage the lunch rush at the bakery, and Roman is SUPPOSED to clean the apartment while we’re gone. It was a pleasure meeting you, Virgil. I hope to continue this conversation at a later date.

P- (1:14 PM) HOLY SHMOKES YOU’RE RIGHT! I GOTTA GO! BYE KIDDOS!

V- (1:15 PM) Bye Lo, Pat, Princey. Nice talking to ya. See you guys later.

Virgil smiled, setting his phone on the bed as he went to grab his guitar. He was in the mood to play some music, and he needed some lyrics for their next song. He heard his phone go off and waited until he was sitting comfortably on the bed before reading it.

R- (1:17 PM) I knew you guys would get along. Welcome to the chat, Virgil.

V- (1:20 PM) :)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Taglist (please let me know if you want to be added or removed!):

@bisexualdisaster106 @self-taught-mess

#sanders sides fic #useless gays #LAMP fic #virgil sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #men in dresses #texting fic

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ourplaceinthecosmosphff · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 19. Power

‘You are holding it in your hands -- your power. Use it.' seeker

I was alone when I woke up. It was a contrast to how I’d spent the previous two nights. The pillows in the guest room didn’t smell like Harry, and neither did the person I shared the bed with. The night before, when I had first realized this, I had brought a pillow from Harry’s bed to this one. No one questioned this – likely, no one noticed it –, but it made a difference for me. It wasn’t the same as using him as a pillow. But it was close enough.

I used the bathroom in his room slightly anguished that nobody was around. After brushing my teeth and hair, I added a bra under Harry’s shirt that I was still wearing, and went downstairs where, before I even entered the kitchen, I could already hear their voices.

“Ah, the creature!” Lourdes said, the first to see me. She grabbed a large mug with both hands and raised it up high above herself, bowing her head. “Please, take this token of our respect in your honor and do not bring destruction upon us with your unforgiving wrath!”

I fixed her with the most unemotional look I could muster before pulling up a chair and grabbing the mug. I looked at the inside to find it was the source for the incredible smell of coffee around. I took a small sip, it was just warm enough, but not burning, so they must have heard me wake up. I took a bigger sip, let it sit on my mouth, and closed my eyes, appreciatively.

“Praise!” Lourdes broke the silence in the kitchen by throwing her hands up in the air suddenly. “The kingdom is spared! We live to see another day by the mercy of our–”

I slowly leaned in and covered her mouth with my hand. “Please. It’s so early.”

“It’s 10 A.M.!” She replied, leaning backwards.

“Ugh.” Was all I could muster.

Harry chuckled, from my other side. “God. This is a new side to you.”

“Oh, she probably hopes you still think she has dignity.” Lourdes told him. “That hope dies with the intimacy of growing up together.”

I didn’t acknowledge either of them; just stared at my coffee as I drank it, slowly. Returning the mug to the table, I scratched my eyes slowly.

“She takes a while to turn on.” Lourdes mumbled to Harry. “Anyway, as I was saying. The time limit is kind of the point.”

“But what kind of message can you put out there in six seconds? Nothing worth saying is that fast.”

“It doesn’t have to be worth saying.” She returned. “And to answer your question, that is the challenge! To do as much as you can within your limit.”

“If what you say is not the point, then what is?!”

“Fun, Harry!” Lourdes yelled, animated. “Not everything in life is about a message, some things are about having fun. Ever heard of that concept?!”

I looked up to see him roll his eyes as she waved her arms around, excitedly.

“What are we talking about?” I asked.

“Vine.” She told me. “Harry doesn’t, and I quote, ‘get it’.” She did air-quote marks using her fingers.

“All videos have to be less than six seconds.” Harry told me as if I didn’t know that as a person alive in the twenty-first century. “All I said was that if media continues to follow this trend one day soon our brains will no longer be able to handle any content that requires a longer attention span.”

Lourdes was rolling her eyes now, and the effect was a lot more prominent in her teenager eyes.

“And, by the way, the implication that you can’t have a message in the app not only offends its creators as well as my generation as a whole, it implies that you think very lowly of yourself and media as a whole.”

We both looked at him. Lourdes, ready for the argument; me, entertained, now more awake.

“Any nuanced, complex, and well explained message will take longer than that.” He told her.

“Ah, there you go, now you added all those adjectives that you hadn’t before.” She pointed her finger at him. “Sometimes the message doesn’t have to be nuanced and flexed out to be well delivered.”

“I think my meaning was implied before–”

“Actually, she’s right.” I interrupted. “You said ‘no message worth saying’ could be delivered in six seconds. Adding new qualitatives now changes your whole argument.”

My sister nodded, “Thank you!”

“Good morning, your honor. Nice of you to join us.” Harry grinned at me, but I just brought the mug back to my lips as I sustained his look, defiant.

“I present, exhibit A,” my sister added, tapping away on her phone, “wait, not this one.”

From her phone, we heard a child’s voice going, ‘get your phone off my face!’.

“What message was that one transmitting, exactly?”

“That kids are hilarious?” Lourdes replied, not looking at him. “But also that new generations are being exposed to social media from an early age and it might not be beneficial to them.”

“Objection.” He rolled his eyes, laughing.

Now feeling almost entirely awake, I looked at them more carefully and noticed he was wearing a green tie with his white, button up shirt. In the back of his chair, hang a navy blue blazer. I wondered if I was underdressed, but looking at my sister I realized she was also in pajamas – white pants with colorful polka dots, and a light pink shirt with a unicorn.

“Are you going out?” I asked.

“I have work.” He reminded me. “But I should be back really quick.”

“Oh, here!” Lourdes smiled. She gave him the phone so he could see her screen, which she tapped with a finger.

A song was playing at first, followed by a police siren. A man said, angrily, ‘I’m getting a ticket!’. Next, a more formal voice added, distantly, ‘I think we got a stolen vehicle…’. The first voice, now calmer and lighter, says, ‘Oh, is there a problem officer?’, followed by a quick ‘nope’. The song started again and the whole thing repeated itself.

“Now it’s looping.” Lourdes explained, tapping her finger on the screen again to pause it. “Would you like me to point out the message?”

“It was pretty clear.” Harry nodded, smiling. Defeated, but amused. He handed me the phone so I could watch it now.

Before asking the officer if there was a problem, the black driver in his car had painted his face white. This, clearly, to imply the differentiated treatment by police depending on racial profile.

“And you have a point.” Harry went on, “I guess social commentary is, after all, a message.”

“Oh, now you’re the message police?” She returned.

He chuckled, “No! I’m agreeing with you.”

“Yeah, but in that condescending way people from your generation talk about everything my generation likes.”

“Woah, there.” I told her. “This generation talk will make me feel old.”

“You are.” She shrugged. “It’s not a bad thing, unless you dismiss things my generation thinks are cool just because you don’t think anything we do can possibly be productive or positive.”

“I think your best point is that things don’t always have to have a message.” I told her. “Sometimes, entertainment for entertainment’s sake is good enough of a reason to download an app.”

“Amen!” She pointed at me, smiling at Harry. “She gets it.”

“I guess we can all use more fun.” He told her. “Can you put it on my phone? Tell me who are the cool people to follow?”

She stared at him, squinting her eyes for only a few seconds, before standing up from her chair.

“Fine. But only because I’m very passionate about Vine.” She said. “Your phone is that one charging by the sofa, right?”

He nodded, and she moved into the living room.

I sipped my coffee, rested my elbow on the table, and my chin on my hand.

“You seem…” I started, looking at him. “Very interested on internet trends for someone who can barely use his phone for anything other than calling and texting.”

He shrugged, smiling mischievously. “I am. It seems like a powerful tool for community engagement.”

“Uhm-hm.” I mumbled, drinking another sip. “Sure.”

We were quiet for a brief pause. I was thinking about how handsome he looked with his hair freshly humid and styled backwards, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

“If it happens to be something your sister and I bond over, all the better, right?”

I tried to contain a smile. “Why are you trying to get her to like you?”

He shrugged again. “I don’t know. I guess your mother already hates me, might as well try to get someone in your family to like me, right?”

He gulped and looked at me, cheeks reddening.

“I like you.” I told him.

He smiled, sincere, big. “Good. Now let’s try to make sure you’re not the only one.”

I pushed my mug to the side, and leaned on the table, crossing my arms in front of me to rest my head on them.

“Why?”

He bit his lip, watching me. Then he put his teacup to the side and did the same as me, crossing his arms on the table in front, leaning in to rest his head on them. Our faces were too close like this, so he whispered his answer, staring straight into my eyes.

“Because I like you, too.”

Before I could even accept I didn’t imagine what he said, Lourdes was back with his phone. Harry picked it, saw the time, and realized he had to go before he was late.

When he was gone, Lourdes settled on the couch, arms crossed in her chest, so I finished having some toast while thinking of the way his blue eyes glistened. I then did the breakfast dishes and when I was done, I sat next to my sister while some British reality show played on the TV. It was nearly eleven, so I decided it would be nice if we made lunch for Harry today.

“Why?” Lourdes asked when I proposed this.

“He’s hosting us and he has cooked or bought most of our meals since I’ve been here.” I replied. “And he’s been really cool to invite you to stay despite you showing up out of the blue.”

“Well, I’m sorry, Maggie. I didn’t mean to third-wheel your romantic holiday.”

I rolled my eyes, and got to my feet with a sigh. “Well, I’m going to check what he has and then we can brainstorm recipes, or google something.”

I went to the kitchen and opened a few different cabinets before finding one near the sink where most of the food seemed to be. Harry had some different types of pasta, some canned goods, and not much else.

“I heard what you said, Maggie.”

I looked back, finding Lourdes had gotten up to follow me.

“Good. You wanna help?”

“I mean I heard you saying you like him.” She explained, her aggressive tone now starting to make sense. “And him saying he likes you, too.”

I got up, and opened the fridge.

“He has frozen broccoli, pasta, canned mushrooms, and chicken… that could be good, right?”

“I may not have a boyfriend, Maggie, but I don’t think you’re supposed to go around declaring yourself to other guys if you do.”

“Declaring?” I complained. “Declaring? Lover? What are you, Jane Austen?”

She didn’t crack a smile. I sighed, closing the fridge door.

“Okay.” Pulling up a chair, I sat down at the table. “What exactly do you want to know, Lourdes? Because I already told you that Harry is my friend and I have not, nor do I intend to cheat on Chris. So what else do you want?”

She looked down, pensively.

“I guess I just… don’t get it!”

“Then help me explain. What don’t you get?”

She sighed, approaching the table. “It doesn’t feel right. You and Chris were always so… joined at the hip. You have guy friends, but you don’t sleep at their house without Chris there.”

“Okay… so, is the problem that I’m friends with Harry? Guys and girls can be friends, Lou. Or else how can girls be friends with each other when some of them are gay?”

“That’s not it. Of course people can be friends, but…” She rolled her eyes, pulling up a chair to sit. “But you are closer to Harry than your other friends.”

“That doesn’t have to be bad, either.”

She nodded. “True. But… your other friends don’t look at you that way.”

“What way?”

She sighed, “Like… like he’s seeing color for the first time.”

I cracked a smile now, “He doesn’t look at me like that.”

“Are you blind?!”

“Lourdes–”

“Seriously, you can’t possibly think he doesn’t have feelings for you.”

“...Do you think it's possible that, maybe, and just consider this for me, okay? That maybe you're seeing things that aren't there?”

She was quiet for a while, before shrugging.

“I guess… But I don’t think I am.” She looked at me. “Maybe you think it’s a friendship, but he doesn’t.”

“He knows I have a boyfriend, and most importantly, he knows I’m the Crown Princess. He barely likes being a royal at all, let alone date one who is an heir. Trust me, he doesn’t like me like that.”

The argument seemed to work, so I let the silence rest for a bit.

“I guess…” She started, staring at her hands. “I guess I just feel weird that Chris doesn’t know you’re here… And don’t lie, you know if he was staying with a female friend in Canada you wouldn’t be okay just finding out later. You should tell him!”

“And I will, when I talk to him.”

“That’s another thing! Why haven’t you even talked to him yet? He must be wondering what happened, and you’re letting him be worried just because you don’t know how to explain this.”

“Chris is far from worried, Lourdes, relax.” I blurted out, annoyed.

“What do you mean?”

“…I turned my phone on last night, when you were in the shower.” I told her, before taking the time to breathe in and out slowly. “Christopher only called and texted once. The call was yesterday, the text was later that night. He just… apologized for being too busy.” I ended with a shrug.

She seemed to struggle to understand what I said. She stared down, brows furrowed, silent for a long time.

“What the–?! How is that possible?!” She started. “Okay, well, what did you say to him?!”

“…Nothing.”

“What?!”

“If he’s not worried, and is currently too busy to talk to me, then that’s fine, we’ll just talk in person later on.”

“But, Maggie, he only texted once?! Once! And you’ve been gone for three days!”

I got up from the chair and opened the last cabinet door, trying to find all the seasoning Harry had.

“Yeah.” I nodded, casually. “It’s too little, but we can talk about it later, when we’re not both distracted. Him with work, me with… well, whatever this identity crisis is. Maybe resting after months of turmoil.” I considered. “Regardless, we’ll talk back home in Savoy.”

“That’s not good enough! You’re his girlfriend! Of ten years!”

“Eight.” I corrected. “And very on and off.” “You only broke up a couple of times.” She dismissed.

“Three.” I corrected, again. “And one of them was quite permanent. So I think this time around the clock starts back again from zero.”

“That’s not how it works.” “Why not?” “Well--” She sighed. “Because! You’ve known each other almost your whole lives! You’re almost engaged!”

Hands on my hips, I fixed her with a knowing look. “So you know about that, too.” She had the decency to give the ground an apologetic look. “I overheard mom and dad talking about it.” “You could have told me.” “Aren’t proposals supposed to be a surprise?”

“Everything in my life feels like it’s being kept from me.” I complained. “I just wish people would tell me things.” “Okay, how about I tell you this,” she started, “Chris not being concerned when you ran away for three days--?”

“Didn’t run away.” “Not okay!” She shouted. “It is not okay, Maggie!”

“Lourdes!” I shouted in the same tone, trying to get her attention. “Please! Just… Just let me worry about this, okay? It’s my relationship!”

“I would, but you don’t seem to be worried at all.” She contested. “Which only makes me more upset!”

She went on like this, talking about how trust and communication are not something you can jeopardize in a relationship, and a lot of other things.

I took note of salt and pepper. Not even a little oregano. Harry also didn’t have coconut milk or double cream or lime for a nice sauce. I sighed.

“We’ll need groceries.” I said, as soon as Lourdes took a pause to breathe. “I’ll pull up grocery apps on my phone and see what they have available for delivery.”

Looking back at her, I realized she still looked concerned sitting on the kitchen table.

“Why aren’t you pissed?” She asked. “Three days. You could have dropped dead somewhere. You could have been kidnapped.”

“Lourdes.”

“Seriously, why aren’t you angry at him?!”

“I don’t know!” I confessed, sighing. “I just… I’m not. He’s busy, I get it. And I guess… I’m going through something right now that I don’t fully understand. So I think it’s better not having to explain it to him right now. I’m okay with it.”

She seemed unconvinced, so I sighed and went to get my phone. Harry had mentioned in passing the name of the app he used for groceries, so I downloaded it and found the nearest store, quickly adding a lot of spices, lime and some coconut milk to my cart. As an impulse buy, I also got ice cream and white wine, and a six pack of the beer Harry had in his fridge in case he didn’t like white wine. Back in the kitchen, I realized he didn’t have wine glasses, so I checked if the store had it and they did, so I added two wine glasses to my basket. Since Lourdes wouldn’t drink wine, I got her some coke, and made the purchase.

Then I used the house phone and called the number written on the notebook next to it to speak to security at the gates. Awkwardly introducing myself as “Prince Harry’s house guest”, I told them I had a delivery coming, and they assured me they could bring it to us.

“Oh, please don’t worry about that!” I assured them, overly worried about being polite. “I can go get it! I’ll keep an eye on the app and when I see the driver arriving I’ll go and get it from the gate.”

They tried to remind me I didn’t have to, but I insisted.

After this, I changed into my actual clothes, some jeans and a blouse, and joined Lourdes who had finally settled again on the couch to continue watching TV.

When the delivery driver was close enough to the gates on the map, I jumped up from the couch, not having realized how much time had passed.

"Groceries are here, let's go!" I shouted.

"I'll wait here."

"No, let's go!"

"I thought we weren't supposed to be out in daylight...?"

"Stop complaining, let's go!" I threw my phone on the couch and grabbed her by the hands, pulling her up and running out the door, not even turning off the television.

When we got to the back gate, the one we came in from, we were told the food wasn't there, and they quickly called the main gate and figured out the food was there. We thanked them and walked towards the main gate, sadly having to walk around the palace. Luckily, a guard was walking over to bring us the groceries, so we met him half way and started making the way back.

I pointed out William and Catherine's apartment when we passed it; it was nice being outside. It was only then that I noticed that I had been in Harry's place for three days. I kind of missed Savoy.

When we got back, Harry was there. The moment we walked through the door, though, he seemed frazzled. He was on the phone, eyes wide, and when he looked at us, such relief came over him it was hard not to let myself be concerned.

“Hey, what’s going on?”

He returned the home phone to the mount on the wall, forcibly, and ran a hand through his hair. He had his cell on the other hand.

“I got home and you were gone!” He complained. “What the hell?! Where did you go?!”

“To get groceries at the gate.” I told him. “We had them delivered.”

“We were on the wrong gate, though.” Lourdes said. “So we had to go around.”

“Groceries?” Harry asked, confused.

“We’re making you lunch today.” I explained, with a smile.

“Oh. Okay.” He nodded, breathing heavily. “The TV was on and your cell phone was on the sofa. I didn’t—“

I approached him after leaving the bag on the table, and put a hand to his forehead. He was sweaty, but cold. “Harry, why do you seem so… scared?”

“You were gone! I didn’t know if they had come in and taken you!” He explained, now getting a little red.

“You think we would have left our stuff?” Lourdes asked, amused.

“I thought maybe they didn’t let you get anything.” He shrugged.

Smiling, I squeezed a hand on his shoulder. “Well, relax. We’re here.”

“Yeah, go chill.” Lourdes said. “Maggie is forcing me to help so she can take a break from your awful cooking.”

“Not what I said!” I looked at him. “We just want to do something for you for hosting us.”

“Sure, let’s go with that.” Lourdes mumbled.

Harry nodded, “Alright. I’m going to… shower then.”

He went upstairs and I joined my sister in the kitchen, shaking my head in amusement.

I gave her the broccoli to chop and boiled water for the pasta. After a while in silence, she said, in low enough a voice I assumed she didn’t need a response:

“...You were gone for ten minutes and he was ready to call the police.”

----

We ate talking about how his engagement went; he had fun spending time with the veterans, but the best part was driving the Jaguar. He then told us he spent the drive there and back watching Vine, so he and Lou spent the rest of time discussing their favorite videos.

Harry asked Lourdes about life in boarding school, and we exchanged stories about each of our experiences, with Harry and I telling her how things were 'in our time'. Friends, classes, rituals, clubs, adventures, and most importantly: the things we didn't miss, and Lourdes could rest assured she wouldn't, either.

We spent that afternoon watching a movie she told us her friends had jokingly made her watch one day -- Princess Protection Program, with Demi Lovato and Selena Gomez.

"It's essentially what we're doing here." She joked. "Harry is our Princess Protection Program."

Once the sun was going down, we felt it was safer to go outside, so Harry proposed a game of volleyball – after we had told him it was one of the sports we played in Savoy with our cousins every summer.

So we went outside and played volleyball, Castillon Rules, where with each hit of the ball you’re supposed to yell out a word that starts with the same letter of your name. One of most polemic debates in our family was that those of us with double names – me and my siblings – had two letters at our disposal, whereas our cousins insisted only the first name counted.

“I never cared about this debate as both my names start with M.” I told Harry, just as he hit the ball thrown at him by Lourdes and shouted out ‘Horace’.

“That’s a name, it doesn’t count.” I argued.

“A name can be a word.” He consted.

“And there we go…” Lourdes rolled her eyes. “Another topic of discourse.”

When we came in, sweaty and still laughing, we sat on the couch for a long time, drinking water and talking about a lot of nothing, brainstorming about what to do next. We decided on another movie, but first Harry had a shower in the downstairs bathroom while Lourdes used the upstairs, and I was last.

When I came out of the bathroom donning once more Harry’s clothes, I went downstairs to find that as I had been showering, they were busy destroying the living room.

“Uhm, hi?” I called, trying to find them in the mess of blankets and furniture. “What are you guys doing?!”

Lourdes popped up from behind the couch, which had been turned around to face the wall.

“We’re building a blanket fort!” She smiled, using the back of the couch to hook a corner of a blanket up.

“…Why?” I asked, already tired at how long it would take to clean all of this out.

Harry walked in from behind me with a mess of twinkly Christmas lights in hand.

“For fun.” He answered, throwing them to Lourdes. “There you go.”

She started untangling the chords and spreading them out across their ‘fort’, as Harry moved to the TV, which he unplugged before removing it from its place.

“What are you doing with that?” I asked.

“Putting it on the floor.”

“Why?”

He grinned at me, and winked. “So we can watch from inside, obviously.”

“Maggie, come on.” Lourdes called, handing me one end of the twinkly lights. “Help me. We’re gonna watch Avatar. Harry’s never seen it.”

I looked at him in disbelief. “You haven’t seen Avatar, the Legend of Aang?”

“Okay, you haven’t read Harry Potter, so I need you to remove the judgy tone from your voice.”

“Thank you!”, Lourdes shouted. “Besides, it’s a very topical watch… You know, seeing as Aang is a great metaphor for you.”

“I am not Aang!” I complained.

“You have literally ran away from your responsibilities. But whatever...” She mumbled.

They both got back to work. Amused, I sighed, and decided if I couldn't beat them, I’d join them. I started untangling the chords.

We brought in extra blankets and pillows to lay on, and Harry unscrewed a broomstick to keep the fort’s ‘roof’ up. We ordered pizzas and opened the wine and settled inside to watch Avatar.

Harry initially complained it seemed very childish, but as that was also my argument against Harry Potter, he pushed through. Seeing as the episodes were only twenty minutes long, we got through them fast, and by episode ten, when Jet turned out to be a dick, he was fully into it if his huge disappointment and loud defense of Sokka was anything to go by.

When season one was over, it was late at night, but we were wide awake. Harry laid back on the floor, staring off into the twinkly lights, wide-eyed.

“So, she just… is the moon now?”

“You can’t come back from being the moon.” I argued.

“I guess…”

“I thought you were team Suki.” Lourdes said.

“I am, I love Suki.” He replied. “But I didn’t want the princess to die.”

“She didn’t die.” I argued. “She just has a different existence now. A different purpose.”

“That’s so sad.”

I smiled.

“Wait,” he looked at Lourdes, “does this mean Suki comes back?!”

“I guess we have to watch season two to find out!” Lourdes said, excitedly.

“Isn’t it past your bedtime?”

“Bite me.”

“Let’s do season two!” Harry interrupted. “I wanna know what happens.”

“Okay, I need a bathroom break.”

I came downstairs just as Harry and my sister were breaking into loud laughter. The sound made me smile, but something also sounded from the hall. I wasn’t sure if I had imagined it, so I walked to the door and opened it to check.

To my surprise, however, there was a person there.

“Hi.” Adrien said, laid back. “I heard this is where all the cool Savoy Royals are hanging these days?”

“Adrien?!” I asked, to his annoying grin. “What on God’s green Earth are you doing here?!”

“Invite me to come in first, Mags, you were raised better than this.”

Before I could react, he walked right past me into the cottage. In the living room, Harry was crawling out of the blanket fort.

“Oh, wow.” Adrien laughed. “This is a scene to behold.”

“What the–?!” Harry asked, confused, but grinning at the sight of him. “Who the hell invited you here?!”

They exchanged a quick one arm hug, patting each other on the back.

“Well, I’m not sure how much you know, but your people have left a standing invitation for anyone from Savoy who needs to come rescue the two runaways here.”

“I didn’t run away!” I complained. Seeing Harry ready to add something, I pointed a threatening finger at him. “Shut it! And Adrien, this is none of your business. I’m fine, go home.”

“God, you’ve been in England for three days and already you’ve forgotten your manners.” He shook his head in mock disappointment. “And rejoice, Maggie, you’re no longer the biggest concern.”

“What do you mean?”

“He means me.”

Lourdes had emerged from inside the fort.

“Bingo.” Adrien added, unamused. “What the hell, dollface?!”

“Relax, this is just a trip! I’m with Maggie, what’s the big deal?!”

“If my parents have an issue they maybe shouldn’t have sent her.” I argued.

“They sent her to talk to you and bring you home, she wasn’t supposed to stay.” He relayed, fixing Lou with a look of admiration. “You literally increased the problem instead of fixing it. I, for one, am very proud.”

They exchanged a look.

“Cute.” I said, sarcastic. “So, why did you come if you’re on our side?!”

“Oh, I am not on your side.” He said.

“What?!”

“Lourdes I get. Teenagers, am I right? But you, Maggie? What the hell? You should have known better!”

“Excuse me?!”

“You couldn’t have forced her to at least answer your parents’ call?!” He asked, angrily. “You’re old enough to do whatever you want with your life, but she’s a kid!”

“Teenager, you just said teenager!” Lourdes complained.

I looked at her, suspiciously. “What call?!”

She was silent.

“Lourdes?!”

“Mom called.” She rolled her eyes. “A few times. It’s whatever, she knows I’m here, she knows I’m fine. We’re literally in a palace!”

“Lourdes, I told you last night, you’re a minor!” I told her. “I can’t be responsible for you!”

“Exactly, so why should I tell you who calls me?” She asked, grinning annoyingly.

I grunted in frustration, but before I could reply to this we heard a calling tone. Adrien was holding his cellphone up.

“Hey,” he said when someone picked up, “I’m here. They’re alive. Say hi.”

He pointed the phone at me, and, confused, I raised a hand in greeting. Then he pointed the phone at Lourdes, who smiled as she waved.

“Talk soon.”

“Wait–!” Someone from the other end of the video call tried, my mother maybe, but Adrien tapped the screen and returned the phone to his pocket.

“Alright. Is there a place to sit around here or do I have to stare at the wall for that?!” He looked at the couch facing the wall.

Harry led him to the kitchen table, and grabbed him a beer from the fridge.

“So, now that that’s out of the way,” Adrien started, “anyone care to tell me why we’re here?”

Harry looked at me, then Lourdes, and finally our cousin. I let out a long sigh, thinking about the wedding, about crying, about Harry’s hand on mine and the thoughts of Louis, about the knowledge Chris had a ring and my parents knew it, I thought of the train and my melting thoughts, and finally, I pulled up a chair and sat down.

“To be honest,” I started, “I’m more interested in why you’re here.”

“I’m here because I’m playing my own game.” He replied, taking a sip of his beer. “Your turn.”

“What does that mean?” Lourdes asked.

Adrien was silent.

“How do you come into this?” He asked Harry, who was quietly leaning against the kitchen sink.

“We’re friends.” He said, looking at me.

Adrien’s eyes found mine, knowing, before traveling down to Harry’s shirt that I was wearing. “Huh.”

“Ade.” I called. “If you’re not going to talk we’re going back to the blanket fort to continue watching Avatar.”

“Fine.” He rolled his eyes. “God. I… I am doing your father a favor so he will do me one.”

“Okay?”

He looked between me and my sister. “I want to go live in America for a little while.”

“What?!”

“How much is a little while?!”

“Less than a year.” He shrugged, non-committal.

“Why?” Lou asked.

Adrien laughed, humorless. “What do you mean why? You know why.”

She looked at me, confused.

“The engagement?” Harry asked. Adrien nodded, not looking at him.

“Oh… Ade, I’m sure that’ll go away soon enough.”

“Are you, though?” He asked. “Because it’s been months. And they still write about me every day. Faye tried to start her new job and she has a horde of paparazzi following her every move. She’s being demonized in the press, the country feels betrayed that she would give up being part of its Royal Family–”

“Adrien!” I interrupted, “Fuck Faye. She made her choices.”

“How can you say that?! You know what she’s going through, you’re a woman–”

“Yes, and I know that she dated you long enough to know what she was getting herself into when she said yes.” I replied. “And she still did. She chose to change her mind and break up, that’s on her.”

He leaned in across the table towards me. “You’re the Crown Princess now. You’re gonna be Queen one day. It might not be yet, but soon dealing with the very real life consequences to people who are connected with us will be your responsibility.” He said, cold. “I wish you’d start looking at it with a little more compassion.”

There was a tense moment of silence while I weighed his words, feeling the old guilt settle in my stomach.

“How about you maybe chill a little?” Harry asked him, casually, but not without a certain intensity in the way he crossed his arms.

Adrien watched him, only half amused.

“How do you guys know each other?” Lourdes asked them.

“Oh, Haz and I go way back.” Adrien told her.

“Friends in common, partying tastes in common.” Harry shrugged. “I’m not completely sure, to be honest. I just can’t seem to be able to get rid of him.”

“You love me.” Adrien winked at him. “You’re even trying to be part of my family now.”

I looked at my hands, pretending I didn’t hear this, hoping I didn’t have to find out Harry’s reaction to it.

“So, what’s your game?” Lourdes asked. “What favor do you need from dad? Is it just permission to go to America?”

“And why America?” I asked.

“With… our family’s recent changes…” He started, probably trying to avoid saying Louis’ name, “I’ve been notified that I’ll be needed more, to help picking up more royal patronages and doing more engagements, maybe even foreign trips or official duties.”

“Louis lived abroad.” Lou wondered. “So, how can him being gone alter so much of the work schedule?”

“Because he was expected to start royal work full time after graduation.” I told her.

“Yes, and Faye was supposed to join the family as well.” Adrien added, taking a long sip of his beer after. “So, now our little family business lost two up and coming employees.”

Lou furrowed her brows in confusion. “And you wanna ditch, too?”

Adrien’s face fell. “I want to help, but I can’t in good conscience stay here knowing there is something I could do to try and draw attention to myself so Faye can go back to living her life as a private citizen.”

Lourdes pouted. “I don’t know, I think I’m with Maggie on this one. Faye brought this on herself.”

“I think I get what you mean, though.” Harry said, to Adrien.

“How can you think it’s his responsibility to fix Faye’s mess?!” Lourdes asked, upset.

Though he seemed unsure he wanted to disagree with her after spending the day trying to bond, he still took in a deep breath and said,

“I have my own fair list of bodies I leave behind after each relationship doesn’t work out.” He started. “It’s… disheartening. Even if a relationship ends well and in a healthy way, sometimes even when there is no relationship to begin with, just something the press thinks was a relationship, every time there’s a slow news day, everytime they need a story, they pull up pictures of the women we’ve been seen with and pull some crap out of their asses just to get the clicks they need for a paycheck.”

“Exactly.” Adrien nodded.

“It feels… it can start to feel like you’re cursed.” Harry added, “Like you can barely speak to a girl without ruining her life.”

“She’ll live the rest of her life being known as ‘Prince Adrien’s ex’. The girl who was almost a princess.” Adrien said, staring at his own hands around the beer bottle. “We were together and then we weren’t, but in the public discourse she goes down in history as a girl I loved once. She’ll be someone’s wife one day, someone’s mother. But they’ll always look at her as my ex.” He sighed. “If there is something I can do to change the narrative, I have to.”

There was another long moment of silence as his words echoed in each of our minds.

“So the favor is for the King to allow you to go to America?” Harry asked.

Adrien cleared his throat. “Yeah. At first he said a flat out no. The problem is, by saying no and explaining why, he told me why he needed me. So he gave me leverage.”

Harry chuckled. “You’re insane.”

“I’m smart.” He shrugged.

Lourdes was looking between them. “I don’t get it.”

Adrien leaned over to her. “First, I refused to do a couple engagements they needed me for. In the first one, I was sick, cough cough.” He fake coughed, very obviously. “Then when it happened twice and I got a call, I said, hey, I’m trying to keep a low profile to make things easier for Faye. If I was allowed to go to America, maybe I wouldn’t need to do this…”

“So you blackmailed the advisors?” She asked, choking.

“Blackmail is a strong word.” He replied. “Luckily for me, Amelia Earhart over here decided to pull a Houdini.”

“Amelia Earhart?” I asked, unconvinced.

“Famous missing person. Keep up, Mags.” He explained. “When Maggie went missing, there was a bit of a quiet storm in the palace. It was on everyone’s best interest to keep it under wraps, but it was hard not to pull all the stops to get you back.”

Harry and I exchanged an intense look. What it meant, it was hard even for me to decipher.

“It went from the immediate security staff and security advisors to your parents, then more and more of the staff as the days passed.” Adrien continued. “Not seeing your security or Auguste wasn’t really alarming, though it was annoying. Refusing to see Aunt Elyse, though? That was gutsy.”

I avoided Harry’s eyes now. If I started thinking about the events right after that encounter, it would be hard to school my expressions into normalcy.

“Mom was livid.” Lourdes agreed. “She called me right after, almost screaming, wanting to know if I had heard from you. That’s when she asked me to come see if I could talk to you… I said I had school, but then…”

“Then someone thought smoking was cool.” Adrien added.

“I was not smoking.” She rolled her eyes.

“Right. Well, when you went dark after arriving, they knew you weren’t coming out.” He added. “I don’t know what made them think I could bring you home. Regardless, here I am.” He raised his hands to the sky, showcasing all of himself. “Will you guys come home with me?”

“Nah.” Lourdes said; I shook my head.

“Oh, well. I tried.” He sighed.

“That’s it?” I asked, suspicious.

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “What am I supposed to do, drag you kicking and screaming? No, thanks. I know how hard you kick.”

“That was one time!”

He pulled his leg up and rested it on the table with impressive speed. “I still have the scar where my bone came out of my body, Margueritte!”

“You should have seen me coming!”

“It was night!”

“Please, you were wasted!”

“Although I am very curious about whatever story this is,” Harry interrupted, “and of course, you’re welcome to stay, I guess my question is, are you joining our little party here? Should I make you a bed on the sofa?”

Adrien smiled. “No, thanks, Harry. I have fulfilled my part of the bargain and I’ll be going home now.”

“This is enough to get dad to let you go to America?!” I asked, “How?!”

He shrugged. “Because you’re going to help me help you.”

“…what does that mean?”

“Well, Mags, I told you my strategy, didn’t I? They needed me, I played my cards right, and told them if they want my help, they need to help me, too.” He grinned. “The moment I realized the family needed me, not just to come here, but to work, as well, I knew I had the power. They need me. But I can just refuse to do anything. What are they going to do, throw me in jail? Decapitate me?”

“No, they’ll…” I thought about it, before sighing. “There’ll be consequences.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” He nodded. “Eventually. But until then they would have a lot of time to reflect how much easier it would have been to just negotiate with me.”

I smiled. “Harry was right. You’re insane.”

“Am I? Or have I just realized that they need me more than I need them?” he leaned in towards me again. “Mags, I’m here to remind you that you are the Crown Princess now. You’re upset at how things are going? You want answers, you want to choose your staff, you want a whole palace to live in by yourself? Ask.”

“That’s not how this works, Adrien.”

“Isn’t it?” He smiled. “Because I already emailed a friend from New York and asked her to give me the contact to her real estate agent.”

I sat back on the chair, crossing my arms across my chest, mauling over his words.

Lourdes seemed intrigued. “Who do you know in New York?”

“A few people, actually. But I talked to a friend who moved there recently… An artist.”

“Ooh, who?”

“She’s not very known.” He explained. “Although, have you ever watched X Factor? She was in that.”

“Did she win?!” She smiled, excitedly.

“Almost. I think she was in the final, maybe.”

As they talked, and Adrien pulled up his phone to show Lourdes a video of his friend, Harry approached and pulled up the last chair next to me.

“Truth or dare?” He asked, whispery.

I shook off my thoughts, and looked at him. “Truth?”

“What are you thinking about?”

I sighed. “I don’t even know.”

“For whatever’s worth, I think he’s right.” He said, looking at Adrien. “You’re the heir. As a former spare, you know how much weight that carries.”

“But I’m not the heir, though.” Before he could protest, I leaned in. “Not really. I am now, technically, but I wasn’t born the heir. I wasn’t raised the heir. No one sees me as the heir, that’s why they don’t tell me anything.”

He smiled a charming and leg weakening smile. “So make them.”

“Would you two care to share with the class?” Adrien asked, loudly, and we both jumped back in our seats.

“We were just–”

“I was just saying I agree.” Harry told him. “Everyone around this table knows exactly what is like to be passed around, being given something to do while an heir gets the really exciting projects and priority in everything. Right?”

“Preach!” Adrien said.

“So, Mary.” He looked at me. “You know how they should be treating you. You also know how they are treating you. Now make it right.”

“How?!” I whined.

“You have all the power you need, Maggie.” Adrien said. “Look at me, I’m here, I was sent by your parents. When I get home, they’ll ask me what happened, what did we talk about? So. What do you want me to tell them? What do you want, Maggie?”

I felt so exhausted. So… confused. I knew what I wanted to change. But I didn’t know how to ask.

“I want things to change.” I said, hands shaking. “I want to be told all that’s happening, all that’s expected of me, all the upcoming events I’ll have to do. I want to be allowed to work, the way that I want. With my patronages and more. I made a list of work I want to do and Auguste dismissed me. If I need to work then I want to actually work. And I want Cadie back.”

They all looked at me with a mixture of amazement and fondness. It was… embarrassing. And kind of intoxicating. I forced myself to keep my head high.

Adrien nodded. “Alright.”

“Alright? What do you mean?” I asked. “What happens now?!”

He got to his feet. “Now I get you someone with actual power, and you argue your case.”

He kissed Lourdes’ forehead, shook Harry’s hand while fixing him with a menacing look before breaking into a chuckle, and asked me to walk him out.

He closed the door behind me when we walked out and walked towards the car without waiting for me, so I followed.

Finally, at the end of Harry’s small entryway, he turned to me, hands in his pockets.

“What are you going to do about this?” He asked.

“What do you mean? I thought we just discussed it. You’re gonna send someone I can–”

“No, Mary.” He said, enunciating the name with the same accent Harry had. “I mean what are you going to do about this.” In the last word, he looked pointedly at the Cottage.

I gulped. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. There’s nothing to do.”

He sighed. “You’re wearing his clothes. You’re letting him call you Mary. You finally reached the point of no return, emotionally speaking, and it was to his house that you ran off.”

“Adrien, not you, too…”

“I know you better than that, Maggie. I know you’re not cheating on Christopher.” He was dismissed. “But I also know you enough to know when you’re happy and when you’re doing things because you have to. Hell, ‘because you have to’ it’s basically your default to everything in life.”

“What’s your point?” I asked, annoyed.

“My point is there is a reason you and Chris broke up last year.” He started. “And there’s a reason you got back together. And I don’t think you know what those are, I think you need to figure it out. But there’s one thing I am almost entirely sure you do know.”

I sighed, looking at him. “And what do I know?”

He smiled, sweeter and more sincere than I had seen him in a long time.

“I think you know who you’re in love with.” He said. “And who you’re not… You just need to be brave enough to accept that.”

With that, he leaned in, kissed my cheek, and walked to the dark SUV waiting for him, leaving me behind in the small Cottage entry with a whirlwind in my heart.

--- ---- ---

[A/N: Hi! How you doing? how was your week? Hope everything is well AND YES THAT IS HARRY TELLING MAGGIE HE LIKES HER EVEN THOUGH SHE WANTS TO LIVE IN DENIAL ABOUT WHATS HAPPENING HERE. Good thing everyone is not as dissociated from real life as she is. Dont worry, she’ll get there =) LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK PLEASE???? Notes, suggestions, criticism, anything! I’m open to talk! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! Next week: Someone with decision making power has a pow wow with Mags. Who is it??!]

#Princeharryff #prince harry fanfic #prince harry fanfiction #princeharryfanfiction #Princeharryfanfic #prince harry #brf #modern royalty au #modern royalty fanfic #fanfiction #OPITCphff #chapters

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dcbbw · 4 years ago

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Sneak Peek Sunday (8-23-2020)

I know for certain I was tagged by @sophie-and-shizuku, and I think I may have been tagged by @bebepac. Honestly, I have not had a lot of time to work on anything because of work obligations but I do have a fic ready to post and a handful of almost-there WIPs; fics that if I just sat down and added one more section, or did a final read-through on, I could post.

For Sneak Peek Sunday, I present to you my They’re Almost Ready list.

Boomerang (Un-Romance AU):

Maxwell.

I wonder what he is doing here. Then I hear his voice carry over my partition.

“Hey, Reebee,” he says, using his nickname for me.

“Max!” I say a little too loudly and a lot too cheerfully.

He steps to my ‘doorway’. “I come bearing treats,” he announces as he holds out a brown paper bag in one hand and my pink drink in the other.

I tell him to come in, and he plops in the guest chair before handing me my drink and cookies. I place them on my desk and roll my chair around so I’m facing him. I eye him appraisingly: Maxwell looks good. He’s still slim with a head full of gelled hair; his face is still handsome in an odd way. Maxwell is the type that is always animated: eyes flashing and sparkling, a permanent half smile lifting one corner of his mouth, hands moving.

A man in motion.

Right now, his leg is jiggling while his fingers tap and dance against his pant-covered thigh.

“What brings you here?” I ask curiously.

“I dropped Pen off this morning and walking her to the elevator, we ran into Lynn going on a coffee run.”

I freeze momentarily. Maxwell dropped Penelope off? “You and Pen?” I ask in what I hope is a casual tone.

He nods happily. “I ran into her at a pet shelter a couple of weekends ago. We talked some, grabbed some lunch, and we’ve been … hanging out ever since.”

“He was looking for a peacock!” Penelope offered helpfully from her cubicle.

I nod slowly. “Hanging out,” I repeat.

Max’s eyes grow wide as he takes in my expression. “It’s not like that.”

We stare at each other. The yet is unspoken.

Ghosts (Damien/Kai/Hayden ):

We were eating dinner in the living room. America’s Most Eligible was on, and for whatever reason, Kai and Hayden absolutely love that show. There were shrieks of laughter and finger pointing at the television set while I watched them absently, barely tasting my dinner.

Hayden noticed my lack of scoffing and reprimand and looked at me quizzically. “Are you okay, love?”

Kai put down her forkful of food to look at me through narrowed eyes. “Does this have to do with that client? What’s the job, Damien?”

She is neither suspicious nor jealous, just protective. Kai doesn’t love deeply or passionately; she loves fiercely.

I sip some cold beer. “I don’t know the job yet. I have to meet with them to find out.”

They both look at me skeptically. I shrug. “I just … I don’t know. I feel disconnected and I don’t know why.”

Except I do. I’m lying to the two most important people in my life, after mom and siblings, because of a man who left me three years ago. Over a phone call. I didn’t hear from him when I was heartbroken. I didn’t hear from him when robot assassins and a crazy man were trying to kill me and my friends.

No, he waits until I’m happy again to call. And I answered.

Love in a Time of Betrayal:

The light in the room was muted as the late afternoon sun filtered in through the closed window blinds. The heavy damask curtains were pulled open, tied back with cords of silk rope. They reminded her of an opera box.

Her hands ran down the front of his shirt, frantically pulling buttons through their holes; the diamond on her finger sparkled in the muted light of the room. The fabric was soft beneath her fingertips. Silk? Often washed cotton? It didn’t matter as she pulled the shirt from his broad shoulders. He let out a low laugh at her eagerness, his hair falling across his forehead in an endearing way.

She couldn’t wait to run her fingers through it.

The man pulled her closer to his bare chest, his short curly hairs matted to his skin. She breathed him in: pinecones, green grass, cognac. A hint of leather. Her lips found the crook of his neck and placed a kiss on his collarbone. He responded by planting a kiss in her hair.

They were star-crossed lovers, their hearts and their fates always at odds. The very Universe telling them constantly that they were not to be together, yet their bodies spoke differently.

Their love spoke differently.

She wondered if what they shared was lust or love, and always decided love. Lust could be sated, but her feelings for him never were.

He knew he loved her, with every fiber of his being. But he saw the signs: every chance they had at happiness was snatched away; sometimes cruelly, sometimes subtly. Either way, the pain was the same:

Deep. Hurtful. So intense not even the sweet release of death would alleviate it.

But here they were again, under the most trying of circumstances, attempting to right their world the only way they knew how.

The Queen’s Friendship:

The woman and Veronica were sitting in a dive bar, eating burgers and drinking beers. It had been five years since high school graduation, and their group of friends had disbanded:

Brenda’s mother had died soon after graduation, and she and her siblings had sold the house and divided the money. Brenda moved to Richmond, VA and had gotten a job with the state government. She was expecting her first child any day.

James had gotten a football scholarship from Auburn University. He played well, but not well enough to be noticed by the NFL. He was working as an accountant in Birmingham.

Michael D. had joined the Army.

Michael B. had moved to DC to attend Howard University and was applying to the police academy.

Shirley was in nursing school, and roommates with Rosalind, who was now a cosmetologist.

Ryan had gotten a degree in Physical Education Teaching and Coaching. He had always liked sports, but not playing them. He was waiting to hear back from the school board about a coaching position.

Veronica had gotten her meeting planning certification and was now looking to get into real estate.

The woman had her degree in Office Administration, along with the rest of the world. She had applied to several places but had yet to hear back.

Veronica dipped her French fry in ketchup as she studied the woman’s face. “I need you to be there! We’ve been friends forever and I want you to be my maid of honor!”

“You and Ryan are getting married?” The woman repeated her friend’s earlier statement, feeling foolish. Why, she wasn’t sure.

Veronica leaned back, tapping her nail against her chin. “I thought you were over Ryan?”

“I am! I am!” the woman hurriedly reassured her lifelong friend. “I just … wow, life is moving fast.”

Veronica nodded as she sat up straight. “It is, but it’s right, ya know?”

The woman nodded, but she didn’t know. She didn’t know how right felt. The two friends finished their meal, and on their way out, the woman saw a sign hanging on the wall: Now hiring waitresses, all shifts.

How I Met Your Wife:

The Duchess stopped fussing long enough to allow Yu to greet her deferentially; Riley smiled at the pretty, slim waitress and asked if there were a more private dining area she and her friends could enjoy their lunch. Yu arched an eyebrow; already the waitress held resentment against the Duchess. Of course she would want to lord her power and position over everyone else.

With a grunt, Yu led them to the private dining area reserved for large and/or private parties. Once the group was seated, Riley grasped Yu’s hand. “Thank you so much for accommodating my request. My appreciation will be reflected in your gratuity.”

Yu looked at the Duchess with a touch of incredulity before saying, “It’s the least I can do given that the King is offering the orchard workers some relief. I have family members who are affected.”

Riley looked at the waitress with concerned eyes before rummaging in her purse. “What are their names?”

Yu gave her the names before leaving the table with menus. She didn’t expect anything to come of it, but at least the new Duchess gave good lip service. She returned with the tea service in time to hear the Duchess on her phone arguing with someone who had to be the King.

“NO, you CANNOT return to the manor, Liam! And NO ONE is coming to the Palace! How in the HELL are you going to suggest WE use the SAME BAKER you and Madeleine were going to use?”

Silence as the Duchess listened to whatever the King was saying.

“I DO NOT CARE THAT THEY ARE THE ROYAL BAKERS! DO I LOOK ROYAL TO YOU?”

Yu hung back, not sure what to do. Riley smiled, and waved her over. “I am going to find a local Valtorian baker for the cake.” Brief silence. “IT ISN’T OUR WEDDING CAKE! I have three people, possibly four, with me RIGHT NOW who would LOVE to be the Duke of Valtoria! Don’t worry about who they are!’

More silence, then the Duchess hung up the phone. She looked at Yu. “The King will be joining us. Please send him here when he arrives.”

Coronation:

I run my hand through my hair while keeping the other on the steering wheel. The car is quiet, too quiet. I turn on the radio and a melancholy song fills the sedan.

And I bruise when you leave the room I never liked the way it felt Keepin' my hands to myself, mmm

Like some magic moment of which I'm not quite sure I wonder if you've ever been in love like this before You'll be scared when I possess you But you'll want me all the more

The music doesn’t help because my brain is filled with questions and images. There’s not enough room for the music and I impatiently turn the radio off. My phone rings; my hand fumbles on the passenger seat and I pull my eyes from the nearly empty road long enough to see it’s Beaumont calling and press the speaker button to answer.

“Yeah?” I growl as I check the speedometer and press a little harder on the gas pedal.

“Drake! We got Little Blossom! She’s going to stay!” he babbles excitedly in my ear.

I am quiet for a moment before I respond. “That’s great. Liam will be happy to hear it.” I don’t bother to ask Maxwell why he convinced Brooks to stay.

Liam made a choice. It wasn’t her.

“I thought you’d be more excited,” Maxwell says with some confusion in his voice.

“Olivia showed up at the Coronation, talked to Liam, and left. Then the pictures of Brooks came out. Wondering if there’s a connection.”

“You think Liv sent the pictures?”

I roll my eyes in annoyance. I try to keep the irritation out of my response. “No, Beaumont. I’m wondering if whoever did this to Brooks is behind Liv’s leaving.”

Desperate Measures:

Blinking back tears, Bertrand glanced at his watch. He raised an eyebrow as he realized it was almost time for his visitors. They were coming to meet with the stoic, confident Duke of Ramsford, not some maudlin, lovesick fool whose bank account was dangerously close to being overdrawn.

He pulled his papers together in neat stack and centered them precisely in the middle of the desk. He opened a drawer, and retrieved his lint brush, rolling it in brisk strokes over his suit jacket and sweater vest. Before leaving the study, he reached in a candy dish; he plucked a breath mint, which he popped in his mouth.

The Duke strode down the hall, ignoring the paintings and photos that lined the walls. He needed to check on lunch; the cook had been with the Beaumont family for decades; she still came in twice a week to do the grocery shopping and prepare dinner for the Duke and Lord. The rest of the staff had been let go; Bertrand could not afford to pay them, and people needed to make a living.

Bertrand trusted the chef implicitly, and normally wouldn’t micromanage, but today was important.

This meeting could put House Beaumont back on the road to riches.

Crown Prince Liam’s social season was starting in two days’ time; Maxwell had accompanied the Prince and some friends to New York City. Bertrand had tasked him with finding a wealthy American socialite who may be willing to sponsor herself in the season. It was a long shot, but Bertrand was desperate. Nothing seemed too farfetched at this point.

House Beaumont could not afford to sponsor anyone; however, every house who entered a suitor received a stipend to cover expenses such as clothing, food, and transportation. The House with the winning suitor received press coverage and a check to be split with the suitor.

Bertrand needed a winning suitor.

But the noblewomen of Cordonia did not need House Beaumont; they had their own houses, and no need to come out of pocket. However, there was one suitor who was entering the season who came from a minor noble house. A suitor whose name was unknown despite her mother having strong ties to Cordonia.

A suitor who had money, and lots of it.

Lady Hana Lee of Shanghai.

What are you working on @ao719 @bobasheebaby @katedrakeohd @glaimtruelovealways @burnsoslow @thecordoniandiaries @bbrandy2002

#sneak peek #on a sunday #long post #dcbbw writes #a lotta wips

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revisionaryhistory · 4 years ago

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Three Days ~ 78

~*~Sebastian~*~

The sun shone brightly when we woke up. I made Emma coffee first and we sat at the bar with fruit and yogurt. I wasn’t particularly hungry. Nauseated, if I’m honest. Emma was going home today. Yes, it was only for a couple of days, but that wasn’t what the problem was. I was afraid of how I would feel when she left. We’ve been together almost a week. We said I love you. Went to a concert with her friends, planned a vacation with mine, and celebrated a month together. Everything is wonderful. I don’t know how it will be when she leaves. Will I be melodramatically sad, anxious, and insecure that while she’s away she’ll figure out she prefers to be without me, or when she leaves will I be glad to have my space back? Realistically, the panic is more likely to come when she leaves France and we’re apart for six weeks. Today’s just a preview.

Around noon Emma was ready to leave. She’d gone through the bags of new stuff and left what she wanted to take to France. No sense packing it home only to bring it back. Especially when she was dealing with her suitcase on the train. Early afternoon was the best time to get her back. I walked her downstairs to her Uber and stopped by the security office to find out where the parking garage was. The security guard walked outside with us and pointed to a keypad on a pole next to the building. I walked into the building hundreds of times and never really noticed the large panes of windows that matched my building was a garage door. The same code that worked on the outside door worked on the garage and my spot was the same as my apartment number. That’s easy.

The Uber driver took Emma’s suitcase and lifted it into the trunk while we said goodbye. “I love you and I’ll see you Thursday.”

Emma kissed me and patted my chest, “I’ll let you know when I’m home.”

“Thank you.” I’m always going to worry about her getting home safe. Can’t wait until there’s snow and she’s driving to work or worse, here. I kissed her again, told her I loved her and tucked her in the car. Stood on the sidewalk until she turned the corner too. Avoided going back upstairs by running across the street and getting a bottle of something. Didn’t really matter what. I wasn’t thirsty. Took a walk around the block to drink my bottle of whatever. Finally, throwing the bottle away in the garbage can at the end of the block, I headed back upstairs.

I walked in my door and stood there with my hands on my hips, waiting for something to happen. Everything looked the same. Felt the same. Not sure what I expected. The apartment wasn’t going to suddenly have a portal to hell open up in between the dining table and couch. If it happened, it would be in the guest bathroom. Maybe my closet. I checked both to be sure. Nope, no portals. What I did find in the master bath was a mauve lipstick kiss print on the mirror. It was at my eye level but on the edge close to the wall. I smiled, thinking how she would have had to crawl onto the counter to put it there. I imagined she’d get the same thrill when she found the notes I’d hidden at her place and school.

A little over two hours later my phone rang. The prettiest girl in the world was calling me, “Hello, beautiful.”

She grinned, “Hey, handsome. I’m home.”

Emma turned her phone around to show me her family room. “I can see that. How was the trip?”

“Uneventful.”

“Perfect.”

“What have you been up to since I last saw you?” The lilt of curiosity in her voice was funny.

“I’ve been busy. Checking email and seeing everything has changed.”

“You’re very flexible.”

“Not nearly as flexible as you, my love.” We shared a dirty smile. “Now, we’re shooting in Paris instead of London. Which is convenient and doesn’t require a flight. And tonight I’m having dinner with a former spy.”

Her eyes lit up, “That sounds fun.”

“It does.” I agreed. “I’ve been trying to schedule something with him for a while. Finally worked out. It will be good to get in person and ask questions about all the shit I’ve been reading and watching.”

“I’m excited for you. You can get the psychological emotional part down. I imagine in person makes it easier to internalize.”

Not that I doubted, but she’d been paying attention when I’d talked. Her interest in the how and why of the craft side was as enjoyable for me as it was her. I wanted to show her more. I wanted to know about how she taught too, how she knew what to do and how she designed lessons. Which reminded me, “Add me to your online classroom so I can watch you teach.” There’s the added bonus of pretty much having her “on demand” if I wanted to see and hear her. I had the video from the party with her, Eli, and Boone too. That would make a long night alone a little more . . . stimulating.

We didn’t talk long. I was having an early dinner to allow plenty of time to talk and I needed to shower and get ready. Emma needed to unpack and start gathering things to repack. There’s also the part about she’d just left.

Dinner lasted much later than I’d anticipated. It was awesome. Dan told me stories and let me pick his brain. I told him about my part in the movie and he was able to give me some specifics. Not that I’d play the part exactly as he’d said, but I knew what to avoid, what wasn’t realistic. I liked that because a complete mismatch with reality could put me into my head and that’s the last place I wanted to be.

The next morning I hit the gym and had a good workout. Mirrors everywhere told me I needed more than a little personal grooming before leaving. A haircut was already scheduled and I called the salon to add on what I thought I needed. I had lunch with my manager to go over the next few weeks. I don’t have a full time PR person, but I do have a firm with which I contract. Emily had been in contact with them. About my girlfriend. Amazing how fast my mood went from good to not.

“Seb, don’t make that face.”

“What face?”

“The annoyed one where you’re holding in a tirade.”

“I’m glad you recognize the precarious ground you’re standing on.” I drank the last of my wine and crossed my arms across my chest. “I’m going to sit here and be very quiet for a limited amount of time. Talk fast.” I don’t have many tirades. A big part of that is due to the relationship I have with Emily. She’s been with me forever. She knows when to push, when to back off, and when to let me have a tirade. Girlfriends are and always have been a tricky area. Usually, Emily wants me to be more open about a girlfriend. Much like what previous girlfriends wanted. That never turned out well for either of them. Emma was altogether in another class. I wasn’t sullen because I didn’t want to hear about what I should be doing. I was feeling protective and didn’t want business in my personal life. Same issue, different reasons.

“Everything is good. Emma is good. She doesn’t have much of a social media presence and hers is private. Family and friends sometimes tag her, but there’s nothing problematic out there. Once her name is out there she won’t be hard to find because you and several of your friends follow her. It’s a quick find that she’s a teacher, where she works, plays volleyball, has a twin, and has musician friends. She’s known by Pearl Jam fans. They’re protective of all the females in the band’s orbit. Best guess is anything negative is wiped quickly. We called Pearl Jam’s PR people and they’ve worked with her, so we don’t need to. Until something comes up and then we’ll probably have to work with you too. Unless you go silent again.”

I must have twitched.

Emily held her hands out like she was calming a wild animal. “Everyone’s a little concerned because you let Will post something. Oh, and any pictures of her in a bikini are always in a group.” She smiled comically and sat back.

“The ones she sends me are solos.”

“Good to know.”

I sat a second, my blood pressure dropping. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

I nodded and shrugged, “I told Will to post the picture. Don’t know exactly why. I’m happy. I’m in love. I’ve grown. Past is past and I’m moving to the future. All of them.”

“So, the comments and everything. You’re okay?”

“No, Emily, I’m wonderful.”

I waited until I got home to call Emma. She hit voice call. I pouted even though she couldn’t see. “I am at Target replenishing my travel supplies.”

“Sounds fun! Are you in for shampoo and leaving with three hundred dollars worth of who knows what?” Isn’t that the way it usually works at Target?

“I have a list. I’m staying away from parts of the store I don’t need to be in.”

“Smart. What time do you have to be at the court?”

“We’re going to meet for dinner about five. Game at seven.”

“Give Sam your phone so I can pack and watch.”

“I bet if you ask nicely she’ll alert you when something big is going on.”

“I’m a decent multitasker.”

“How was dinner with a spy?”

"Dinner with a spy was" I shook my head and looked up, "fascinating. Books, even non-fiction, and video are good, but watching his expression and mannerisms was so cool. Especially when he had neither." I went on talking while she shopped. She laughed and gasped at the same parts I had. I was excited to see how I could incorporate this new knowledge. We hung up when she was checking out.

~*~*~*~

"Sorry about the loss." I cringed to soften the blow. I knew she didn't like to lose. Who does?

Emma growled, "Frustrating. I want a chocolate brownie or something."

"I think the bakeries are closed." It was a little after ten. "I'll get you one tomorrow."

"You're the sweetest."

"When will you be here?"

"Well before lunchtime. I got everything packed before the game. I'll shower tonight. Get up and be on my way. Do you have plans?"

"Yes. Vanity kicked in. I have a facial and haircut, before therapy. Want a facial?"

"No seaweed."

"Damm, that's what I booked for you."

~*~*~

I spent the morning packing. I’m not a heavy packer. I’ll wear the same thing over and over. I’m working so costuming will be taking care of most of my clothes. I’m invited to the fashion show. Being dressed is part of the package. Emma and I had made a list of places we wanted to see and things we wanted to do while in Paris. I composed an email and sent it on to the hotel’s concierge. I heard back almost immediately. They would create an itinerary and we could adjust it once we arrived. Perfect.

Emma would be back about noon. Our spa treatments and my haircut were set for three and my therapy appointment was around five. I cleaned up around the place. Nothing drastic. I had a cleaning service come in after I go away. I just make sure everything’s put away. I had my suitcase closed and in the dining area when my text notification went off.

Emma ~ Are you home?

Sebastian ~ Yes.

Emma ~ Alone?

Sebastian ~ Yes.

I am sensing something is about to happen.

Emma ~ When I get there would you like to play a game?

Sebastian ~ Yes.

I neither know nor care what she’s talking about. It would be nice to know what I’m going to be playing, though.

Sebastian ~ Could I get more details?

Emma ~ Porn

Sebastian ~ You want to watch porn?

Emma ~ Pretend we're in one. Over the top, things that only work in porn, excessive moaning, name calling, filthy talk porn.

Fuck. I’ve watched enough porn to know how this was going to go.

Sebastian ~ Yes, I would like to play.

Emma ~ I never doubted you.

Sebastian ~ Are you texting and driving?

Emma ~ Traffic and voice to text. Delivery girl, booty call, escort? Me. This time.

Sebastian ~ I don't know yet.

Emma ~ Text when you do.

Sebastian ~ I love you.

Emma ~ I love you.

Woman has been away for forty-eight hours and shows back up with this shit. I wasn't a sex-starved horn dog five minutes ago. I wonder what she's wearing? Delivery girl, booty call, escort. I like her choices. I have to seduce the delivery girl. Or be seduced. Booty call would be a repeat. Familiarity without expectations. There are zero expectations with an escort. Well, there are expectations, but only mine. I feel like it's a question of how selfish I want to be and what questions I want to answer after. Booty call it is!

I texted her my choice and that the door would be unlocked. I sat in the chair to wait. Patiently.

#oscar isaac #fanfiction #rpf #oscar isaac fanfiction #oscar isaac X OFC

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tirednotflirting · 4 years ago

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you're a sky full of stars

hi this fic was actually the combination of like three different ideas but i think it works out okay.

it’s more soft jalex bc we love soft jalex in this house

here it is on ao3 !

Alex’s flight is delayed.

It makes sense. He had sent Jack a picture of the snow-dusted pasture outside his window when he was getting ready to head for the airport so Jack had expected his early afternoon flight might be delayed by a little bit so the plane could be prepared to fly through the cold air. But a five hour delay was much longer than he originally anticipated.

All afternoon Jack had tried to busy himself with cleaning up a little more and a trip to the grocery store in between getting sad selfies from his boy in an airport Dunkin with updates on his flight time. Each one brought a bittersweet smile to his face because while he was sad he had to wait longer to have Alex in front of him, it was impossible to not smile at his pouty puppy dog eyes. Jack was certain he was sending the dramatic look on purpose, always trying to do something to make Jack smile. It was just one of the many reasons he was entirely head over heels.

The sun set a couple hours ago though and now Jack is camping out on his couch, staring out the big window in his living room, watching tiny blinking lights cross the sky and waiting for Alex’s flight to be one that catches his eye. It’s the closest he can get to stargazing in Los Angeles (the irony of the City of Stars being too bright to see the real ones isn’t lost on him) but it’ll have to do for now. The activity reminds him of Alex, as do most good and soft things in the world, and he can’t help but think about the last time he was at the farm.

It had been Alex’s idea to bundle up a bit and lay out a couple blankets in the front yard to watch the stars one night in October (Mars and Jupiter are going to be visible tonight. Jack, come on, this is important). He requests hot chocolate before they go out, which Alex happily makes and pours into a Thermos that Jack jokes he remembers from the high school lunch room. He lets Alex lay out all the blankets once they’re out there and after moving to sit, he pats the spot between his legs. Alex laughs but moves to take a seat, his back immediately relaxing to rest against Jack’s chest as his eyes drift up to the clear, cold skies.

He points up into different spots across the night sky to provide direction on how to spot the planets and some constellations he looked up the stories for. Alex tells Jack the stories as well in his typical dramatic fashion while his fingers play with the strings of Jack’s hoodie. Something about the simple action feels so fond, Jack thinks, as one of his own hands lifts to pull Alex’s beanie back over his ear.

He’s just finished telling Jack a story about a guy called Orion, when Alex reaches for Jack’s hand and holds it against his chest. Jack can feel him sigh from the way his chest lifts below his hand. “I’m glad I did this.”

“What this are you referring to?” Jack questions as he slips his fingers into the spaces between Alex’s where they rest against his heart.

“Lots of stuff, I guess,” Alex says, his eyes still trained on the sky. “Decided on this place and the animals, agreed to the hot chocolate for tonight, fell for you. I’m just thankful the universe allowed for all of it, you know?”

Jack smiles easily at his words. He’s always been grateful to have Alex’s perspective on things be such a constant in his life. The world feels way too big and scary and it’s easy for Jack to feel like he’s getting lost in it. It’s his own reason for being so thankful to have the farm to visit from time to time. Jack likes the activity and pace of LA but he’s glad he has a place to head to where the rest of the world aside from his boy and a few goats and horses disappears. “Yeah, I think I do know.”

Alex turns then and resituates himself in Jack’s lap and Jack’s smile grows as he just barely makes out Alex’s in the minimal light provided from the porch light they left on when heading out. Alex leans forward to press his lips to Jack’s, the action obviously intended to be a short one and Jack finds himself laughing against his lips at the gasp Alex lets out as he lies back fully against the blanket. Alex pulls back but only far enough that their foreheads still rest together. “Excuse me, sir, that was not very safe.”

“I live on the edge, baby.” Jack teases back before pulling a giggling Alex closer against his chest to bring their lips back together.

The stars that night had appeared in Jack’s dreams for weeks after that trip. The simple joys of the farm and the sky and Alex lived on a loop in Jack’s brain pretty much always until he could get back to the clean, brisk Maryland air. He sighs now as his eyes strain against the LA sky, searching pointlessly for even the tiniest glittering of a star.

He could go to sleep, Jack tells himself, as another yawn leaves his lips. He’s been sat on the couch that faces the window for a few hours now, his fingers absent-mindedly strumming his guitar while he waits for a text with a selfie containing one of the LAX filters to tell him the plane has landed.

He wills himself to get up and wander toward the kitchen to set out Alex’s favorite tea on the counter. He fills the kettle and leaves it on the stove so that way it’ll be ready for when he gets the notification so he can make a mug for Alex to have while he fills in Jack on the day and the writing session he had yesterday. A mug of tea will be the only thing Jack can use to get Alex to stay awake long enough to let him just listen to him for awhile, the sound of his voice, live and in person, always being something to warm Jack’s soul after they’ve been apart.

Jack heads back to the couch then, determined to watch the sky until his phone buzzes. He blinks the spots away from his eyes as he takes a seat and pulls the sleeves of his sweatshirt over his cold hands. He’s not used to getting tired this early. He used to live in some kind of nocturnal state, he’s pretty sure. It’s as he’s sitting there, lounging against the back of the plush couch and thinking on what could have caused this change in his lifestyle (he’s got an idea of a who rather than a what that has him wanting to settle down), that Jack’s eyes finally drop shut.

“Hey there, sunshine.”

Jack’s eyes flutter open at the sound of Alex’s voice and he feels his heart melt a little at the view in front of his still open window. A beanie covers Alex’s head, pulled down over his ears to fight the rare cold night they were meant to be having in LA. He has yet to take off his jacket, evidence that he must have immediately come to find Jack after stepping through the front door. Alex is always an absolute vision to Jack but there’s something special about his first look at him after they’ve been away from one another for a while.

“You lost all rights to call me that after the last album,” Jack jokes lazily, his hand reaching up to cup Alex’s jaw, the familiar stubble against his palm making a blush and tired grin paint its way across his face. “I was gonna try to stay up for you. Was gonna try to figure out exactly when you would get up here so I could have a tea ready for you and everything.”

“It’s the thought that counts, my love,” Alex smiles, his face turning in Jack’s hand to press a kiss to his palm. “You can make me my tea in the morning if that’ll make you feel better?”

“Mmm, maybe.”

Alex laughs and his eyes light up some in the dull light coming from the entryway and that alone lets Jack consider this night a win, regardless of his tired mind not allowing him a better welcome home for his boy. (If he wasn’t so tired he probably would question how easily he called this place home for the both of them but it’ll have to wait until he’s had more and better sleep.) Alex leans closer and tucks a finger below Jack’s chin before brushing their lips together. “I need to shower off all the plane air but why don’t we go head upstairs and I’ll meet you in bed, yeah? We can catch up in the morning.”

Jack sighs because his tired brain knows that it’s a good plan but he was really looking forward to a catch up. He’s also not all that certain he’ll be able to fall asleep again that easily. “If I’m still awake when you’re done will you tell me more constellation stories?”

He watches Alex’s features soften impossibly more. “You want to hear more of my useless star stories?”

Jack shakes his head as he moves to stand, his hand reaching down for Alex’s so he can walk them in the direction of the bedroom. “They aren’t useless. Always love listening to you talk about your love for everything going on up above us. You always sound so excited.”

They stumble up the stairs, hands loosely linked together as Alex walks behind Jack, his free hand providing a guiding, comforting touch as Alex steers them down the hall. After entering the room, Jack falls into the mattress and behind him he can hear Alex laugh, the sound even more of a comfort than his favorite song. “Well in that case,” Alex starts and Jack lifts his head to watch a tired smirk pull at his lips. “On the plane, I read this really cool article about some of the zodiac constellations that I would love to share with the class.”

“I’m all ears, babe.”

Alex bites his lip as his eyes meet Jack’s from his spot leaning against the bathroom door frame. “Get ready for sleep then and I’ll be back in a few. Happy to be back. I love you so much.”

“I love you more,” Jack says back, his face half-smushed into a pillow. Alex winks and turns to close the door.

And though completely exhausted, Jack finds himself making the mental note that maybe the whole naming a star after Alex would actually be a good birthday present after all. Then maybe Jack can be the one to tell Alex a story. One about a boy who loved another boy enough that every night he filled the sky full of stars and their stories.

#jalex #jalex fic #atl fic #we love some fluffy 2.45am nonsense :))))))

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thatsadbietch · 4 years ago

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Well... Its Out There, Now

Summary: One of your adventures while performing daily tasks on BoneZone, the Island you inhabit with several villagers, including one of my favorites so far, Keaton.

Word Count: 3,312

A/N: The first Animal Crossing fanfic I’ve ever written about the first Animal Crossing game I’ve ever played! Fell in love with it immediately. Purely wholesome fluff, some coming out stories involved that are definitely not cannon. I hope you like it!

Suppose I should mention, there’s some cursing, but otherwise totally G-Rated

Feedback is always appreciated, I’d love to be a better writer.

_____________________________________________________________

“Here’s to another morning… Calm… serene… kinda dull…” You said to yourself, waking alone in your rented house on BoneZone. You had jokingly shouted out the name during an island meeting, but the innocent villagers decided it was unique and loved it.

“It’ll be a fun story when I get visitors,” you thought at the time. But you’d been on the island for a few months now and has had no visitors, just mail. Which was better than nothing, but you missed your family, your friends…

“Think of it as a vacation, he said,” You mocked as you got dressed. That is what your brother had said before you boarded the plane, headed to this island getaway, which you originally thought to be just that, until you became the island’s representative. But, admittedly, it was nice not being in school, or employed in some office somewhere while still having a nice living space and food on the table. Even the villagers have taken a liking to your and seemed to be Tom Nook’s right-hand person when it came to island matters. You just wish someone, anyone of your friends or family could have come with you.

Anyway, you walked into your living room and was greeted by Russell, your pudgy cat. At least you got to take him. He released a pitiful “Rrreow,” as he does every morning before you go out to pick up debris and pull weeds.

“Russ, you know by now I do this every morning and I’m back for lunch,” you reminded as you filled his food and water bowls, as if he understood. “I love you and will be back soon.”

With that, you headed out, making your rounds, greeting the villagers you came across.

“Yo, hoohaahaa, what’s up?” Louie, the fitness-enthused gorilla called, jogging past.

“Hey, Louie!” you called back, and glanced at your phone. 8:13. He was probably on his 28th lap by now. 22 more to go. “Make sure to stay hydrated. We don’t want a repeat of what happened last week.”

Louie actually stopped, scratched the back of his head, and blussed. “Yeah… I was pretty lucky you happened to be in the orchard that day. You’re the best!” He called out, and continued his work out.

“He’s crazy,” You said to yourself, shaking your head.

“I’ll say.” You jumped, looking to your right to see Keaton snickering. A bird with vibrant blue and yellow feathers shouldn’t be hard to spot, but dammit he managed. The two of you hit it off pretty quickly, and his company became comforting, especially when you faced some serious homesickness.

“I don’t want a heart-attack today, Keaton.” You stated and crossed your arms, but a small grin gave away how amused you were.

“I would never do such a thing, friendo. Never. Now, scare you for my own entertainment… that, I would do.” You raised an eyebrow.

“Hey, you want a deal on that house expansion or not?”

Keaton put his wings over his heart. “I’m hurt, that you would stoop so low… with me of all people.” You gave him a gentle nudge.

“I’m teasing you, feather-face. But, if you wanted to make sure that deal comes through, you could help me out this morning. I need to pull weeds, tend to the garden…”

“Hmmm,” he exasperated, “Walk around the island with my bestie and share gossip? I think I can manage.”

They first made their way around Resident Services. Kicks happened to be by Resident Services today, selling his shoes and bags. They stopped to look a bit; You found a bag that you thought to fill with other items and send to your family as a care package. For now, you slung it over your shoulders, and they continued to the beachside garden, and began pulling weeds.

“So, when do I get to meet the folks? The friends? Or are you actually on the run for something and can’t go back home?” Keaton asked teasingly. You rolled your eyes and shook your head, the signature expression.

“Whenever they visit.” You said simply, knowing that Keaton meant no harm, but you missed them the more they were mentioned.

“What about you? Anyone here catch your eye?” you grinned. For once, you saw Keaton hesitate, and he stopped pulling weeds for a moment.

“Hey, if I said something wrong-”

“No, you didn’t. I was just thinking…” he said, casting another uprooted weed aside. The two of you walked over to the river to rinse off.

“You can tell me. You know the golden rule, we share other people’s gossip, not ours.” You joked, bringing barely a half smile to his face. They stood and continued to the main garden, where the villagers collaborated to produce hybrid plants. The two sat on a nearby bench, deciding to take a break.

“…Y/N...” He said, almost whispering. “I do have my eyes on someone… another bird…” Your eyes widened.

“Is it Piper? You never told me anything!” You would have exclaimed, but in whisper form. Even so, Keaton flailed his wings and shushed you.

“NOOO! She and I are just good friends.” You raised an eyebrow. “You suuuuure?”

“Y/N, I’m trying to be serious here.” The smirk quickly vanished and you nodded. Keaton brought his knees to his chest, not unlike a scared child during a thunderstorm.

“…it’s… Wilbur.” You breathed a sigh and chuckled a little bit, infuriating the bird. He stood up quickly.

“I TRUSTED YOU, Y/N! And you’re sitting here, laughing at me and-“

“HEY, chill, unless you want to wake up the island.” Keaton sat back down.

“I honestly wasn’t sure what I was expecting… But Keaton, bottom line, relax. I don’t care if you have a crush on Wilbur.” He tucked his knees to his chest again and looked you in the eye. “Really?”

“Dude, half of my friends are gay. And regardless, I don’t love them any more or less based on who they love. People like to make this complicated. It’s really not.” Keaton just looked at you for a minute, and sighed, and nodded.

“Well, is there something else on your mind? You’ve never been this quiet for this long,” You jested. He gave you a smirk and a sideways glace before hitting your arm. “Shut up. It just feels nice to get that off my chest. Thanks, wingo.” He said, and turned to wrap his wings around you in a hug. You squeezed back, though had a mischievous glare still in your eye.

“Just don’t say anything too early. I had Bells on you and Piper.” Keaton gasped dramatically (yup, he’s back) and exclaimed, “HOW RUDE!” before pushing your away from him and off the bench. You cackled the entire time, and once Keaton started laughing too you grabbed onto his legs and dragged him down with you.

“Oh, that’s it! Chores be damned, it’s go-time!” You sprang up before he finished his threat and ran, both careful to follow the path and not ruin the flowers (all the villagers would be upset, but you both would have surely faced Dobie’s wrath). Once out of the garden, you made a beeline for the river; you had your retractable vaulting pole thankfully. You dug it out of your pocket, pushed the button that released the pole, and vaulted over the river. As you retracted and returned it to your pocket, you turned and saw Keaton on the other side. You blew a raspberry before calmly strolling away. Keaton would not be defeated, not like this. He backed up a bit, enough to get a full sprint toward the river before jumping. That and one hard flap of his wings got him across the river.

You were content catching your breath, walking along the beach, until you heard footsteps. “Oh, this must be Louie’s last lap. Good for hi-“ your thought was interrupted as a set of wings took your around the middle, tumbling onto the warm sand of the shore. You landed on your back, but before you entered full-blown attack mode you looked up and saw Keaton strattled over your and laughing loudly. You couldn’t help but to laugh too, and tried to topple Keaton over. However, he took your wrists and planted himself more firmly to the sand, still giggling light heartedly.

“Oh, I don’t think so. You were super rude earlier. I think it’s time you apologized.” The only human on the island rolled their eyes yet again. “I was teasing you, dude.” He shrugged, but didn’t budge. You sighed.

“Oooh fine. Keaton, I’m sorry about the joke I made with Piper and Bells. Happy?” Keaton smirked.

“Almost. Now, you have to tell me a secret, since I told you a big one about me.”

“Are you joking?”

“Does this face look like it’s joking?” You paused. Keaton glared, knowing there was a sarcastic comment just dying to come out.

“Y/N, I swear-“

“No, but it looks like a punch line!” you giggled at your own joke as if it were the funniest thing you could have said.

“WOW, you’re on a roll today!” Keaton exclaimed, amplifying your laughter. He wasn’t a dumb bird, he knew there was a reason you spent so much time by yourself, even after meeting and getting to know everyone that’s moved on the island. In fact, greeting new villagers was your job, and yet you were still holding something back.

“Come on, you aren’t getting up until I hear some spilled tea. Let’s go,” he demanded, but you shook your head defiantly.

“I don’t have any secrets for you, Keaton. I’m a pretty open book.”

“That so? Then why are you still trying so hard to get me off of you?” For having nothing to hide, you were trying awful hard to get your wrists back. So, you wracked your brain for anything unrelated to “spill,” but just didn’t have anything else.

“Now who’s being quiet?” Keaton playfully mocked. You didn’t know what else to say, so you blurted, “I have three tattoos!” Keaton looked blankly at you.

“I know that. And even if I didn’t, that’s not a great secret.”

“But you’ve only seen two. How do you really know?” Silent blank-staring. Keaton then noticed the bottom of your shirt rose slightly from the struggle.

“Y/N, hang on, I don’t want the sand to burn you,” he said, releasing a wrist as to fix it. However, when his feathered fingers stroked the exposed skin, you jerked and instinctively grabbed his wrist. He was shocked at the suddenness of your movements, but then it clicked.

“Oh, honey… that’s the kind of secret I’m talking about…”

“Keaton, NOO-“

“The kind I can totally get behind using against you.”

“Keaton no means no-AAGGH, no-ho, KEEHEEATON!” Safe to say, you underestimated how strong Keaton was. He quickly freed the wrist you caught, held both of yours in one wing and held them to one side, giving him free reign to glide his feathers over your now more-exposed hip bone. You brought your head to your hands and hid your face while you cackled endlessly at the ticklish sensation.

“STAHAHP, KEHEATON, pleaaAH! HAHA!” Keaton smirked at your desperate attempt at coherent English, as he went from gentle gliding to pinching your hip and working his way up and down your side, while you frantically and flutily kicked the air behind them.

“You, one of the reasons I liked you was because you and I can pick on each other.. But now, knowing this, I know juuuuust how to bring you down a peg!” Your hiding in your hands didn’t go unnoticed, nor did the fact that aside from hiding your face, you weren’t making any real effort to get away from him.

“You want to know what I find funny?” He asked and paused so you could answer.

“Really *huff* bad *huff* dad jokes.”

“Despite it all, I don’t think I’m going to break your sarcasm,” the bright bird replied with a blank expression. “Anyway, no. I think it’s funny that you’d rather spend your energy hiding your face than stopping me~.” You didn’t say anything, but your cheeks flushed a deep red, and you attempted to hide your face again.

“Nuh uh, none of that!” he exclaimed, and rather than just holding your wrists to the side, he lifted them above your head. “There’ll be no more hiding for you~.” You shuddered in anticipation, and witnessed mischief take over Keaton’s facial features. If he and Wilber ever got together, you’d have to remember to properly warn him about Keaton’s dark side.

“Though, I’m willing to make a deal with you.” You sighed and relaxed… while you could.

“What kind of deal?” That glint in Keaton’s eye… you were all too familiar with. He’s not done.

“I think this is a fantastic secret you’ve shared with me… whether you meant to or not,” he started, and glided his feathers across your exposed skin, from one hipbone to the other. You clenched your fists and gritted your teeth to try to maintain some form of composure now that you couldn’t hide your face. Keaton chuckled and continued.

“But anyway, I still don’t think it quite adds up to mine. I think I need to know which places will wreck you.” You tried to feign disbelief.

“You don’t think I’m wrecked now?”

“No, I think you were surprised. And I think there would have been a lot more of a struggle if I were onto something. Now, don’t get me wrong, I think this-” He suddenly grabbed and poked at your hip and sides, causing an explosive cackle “-is effective. And adorable.”

“Fuhuhck off,” you replied casually, then froze after seeing his surprised face. Then you realized it was the first time you’d ever said that to him. In jest, of course, but Keaton, ever the dramatic one, played as though he’d never been more hurt or offended.

“Oh, I was going to give you the option to tell me. But that chance has been blown.” He began sinisterly. “I’ll just find out myself.”

“Wait no Keaton I didn’t meheheAAAN IIIITT! NOOOHOHOHAHAHAA!” You couldn’t speak clear enough, and had no way of covering your face, but you still tried to contain yourself enough that he might get bored, or think all of your ticklish areas were about the same. But you were never a good actor; and he had already decided to begin his onslaught again on a bad spot. He kneaded in the middle of your rib cage, resulting in complete hysterics.

“Well, lucky guess!” he exclaimed, switching between this spot and your underarms randomly. It was as if you’d never reacted to such a ticklish onslaught before. “Right? Did I guess right?” he tormented, and he chuckled to himself as You frantically nodded and grabbed his wrists instinctively.

Soon enough though your laughing grew silent, and Keaton figured you’d just about had enough. He relented and let go of your wrists, then laughed when you didn’t move them from over your head; you just remained still to catch your breath.

“It’s *huff* too early *huff* for this *huff* shit.” Keaton cackled evilly.

“Gee, I wonder what discoveries I’ll make if I just, ya know, turned around and tried the other half of you.” Your eyes widened and summoned at least enough strength to shove him off, and turned to run until you was jerked backward: Keaton had hurried and grabbed the bag you’d bought earlier that was on your back and used it to catch and knock your off balance, forcing you on the ground, lying face down.

“Damnit! That care package cost me more than just Bells…”

“Your folks and I are lucky you’re so thoughtful.” Keaton played, clearly enjoying himself.

“Oh, shut the hell up.”

“Wow, grouchy. Bet I can fix that, though,” Keaton teased, and You braced yourself again… But nothing came.

“… on second thought, nah.” Keaton said while standing and offered his wing to help you up. You looked up at him skeptically, and took his wing.

“What?”

“I decided you earned a break. Plus, that reaction was gold, I know you’re hiding something else, and I’ll try to find out what when you least expect it.” He said triumphantly, though still sporting a sinister glare.

“Oooh, that’s dirty,” You replied, but couldn’t help but grin.

“What? It gives you a chance to enjoy yourself unexpectedly, too, ya know.” The red glow still played at your cheeks, even after you’d caught your breath.

“I don’t know what you mean.” You said sourly with your arms crossed.

“Oh,” Keaton started as they continued along the shoreline toward Bertha and Elise’s houses, picking up shells as they walked. “I’m not oblivious, friendo. If you enjoy something and no one gets hurt, there’s nothing to be embarrassed over.” The statement did NOT help, as you turned away again, feeling the heat intensifying on your face. Deciding he wasn’t helping, he tried to change the subject.

“So… what do you think my chances are with Wilbur? You fly a lot, have you talked to him much?” You peeked over at him, and decided to set your shells down and sit in one of the new beach chairs you’d placed a few days ago. Keaton took the one next to you. You shrugged before responding.

“He seems nice, but I’ve never gotten a vibe as to his preference. I could talk to him more, be your wingmate.” You offered, wiggling your eyebrows at the colorful bird. Keaton beamed.

“You would?? I’d really like that, wingo! Thanks!”

“It’s no problem.” Even carrying on normal conversation, Keaton still had a feeling something was still… off.

“Hey, wingo, there are no hard feelings about earlier, are there? I mean, I was just playing, that’s all, I didn’t mean-“

“You’re okay, Keaton,” You stated, finally turning to face him. You were actually smiling, albeit kind of sadly.

“You’re right though, from earlier. I was caught off guard, I do… actually… enjoy it… it’s hard to admit. I’ve never told anyone about it.”

“Are you for real?” Keaton asked. “What are you afraid of? I’m sure no one that loves and cares about you would think anything of it. At least no more than your usual weird.” He smirked. You shot him a glare, but smirked back. Your face returned to one of indifference and took a deep breath.

“I know that. I just have a hard time talking about it.”

“Why?” You remained silent for a bit.

“I don’t really know. It’s just a… thing. I don’t know.” Keaton thought about it for a second. You looked back over.

“Really, you don’t have to worry about it. I’m not sure when I’ll see any of them again anyway, with me trying to get something started for myself here and all, so… and it’s not worth all the thinking.”

He was clearly not listening, and proved it when he turned and said, “Ya know, the news is a thing. Music is a thing. There are a lot of things that you don’t have a problem talking about that you like, right?”

“Well, yeah, but-“

“No buts, I’m not done,” he remarked sassily. You snickered and let him continue. “My point is, maybe you should just think about it as if it’s one of those types of things. And from what you’ve told me, you have decent enough people in your life to listen without passing judgement. And if anyone does… well, another thing is this side of me that hardly ever has to come out, but it will for you, friendo.”

“…oh,” You remarked. Don’t piss off Keaton. Got it. He laughed again.

“Does any of that make sense?”

“Yeah. I think so. Maybe I’ll approach it that way next time.”

“Good. And let me know how it turns out. Because I love it when people tell me I’m right.”

“Oh, fuck you.”

#tickle fic #tickling #animal crossing #first fic #fanfiction #fluff #drabble #acnh #reader #acnh villagers #wholesome

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marueonmain · 5 years ago

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WINDFLOWER

part six ~ to be more normal ~

(part one) (part two) (part three) (part four) (part five) (part six)

A/N: I want to thank each of you who have continued reading and supporting me through all these parts (that’s almost 12k words total!) and I hope you keep wanting to stick around until the end. Stay safe. Stay healthy.

Summary: Alex visits with James & Fraser in a bid to distract himself from thinking about his feelings toward Y/N. George is concerned.

Pairing: imallexx x reader

Warning: Implications of Disordered Eating Habits. References to a Real/Imagined Domestic. An Absurd Amount of Pining.

Word Count: 2.4k

Subdued shades of orange with the occasional single brushstrokes of pink projected through his bedroom window and painted him in light. A bird chirped, and another chirped back in a cycle of communication lost on other animals. Alex did not realize the change outside his window until the light gradient settled on a loud yellow and created glare on his monitor.

It was sunrise, and he had just finished editing for his most recent video. Where the hours of work went was unclear as it played back with the same level of effects as other videos on his channel. But the hours showed in his fringe, darkened with grease, and in his hands that shook from low blood sugar.

Sleep was for the strong – for those who executed enough psychological control to shush their thoughts. To untie their mental boat and let it drift into the oblivion sea. Alex was not one of those people. Quieting his internal monologue required medication that put him in a state not unlike how he imaged it felt to be roofied.

Or else he did not sleep.

And Alex did not sleep that night. Not because he needed to edit or because he was so busy he did not realize he was tired. No, none of that. He knew he was tired: exhausted even: his limbs felt heavier as, throughout the evening, his blood was spliced and diluted with concrete mix.

Why did he not take his medication? Why not sleep? He did not want to be trapped in ~the dream~ again.

Despite his fundamental understanding of the uncontrollable manner in which the unconscious forms dreams, Alex was consumed with guilt for dreaming about kissing his friend's girlfriend. So, he punished himself: not allowing his mind rest nor his stomach food as he threw himself into his editing.

He would not allow himself think about it long enough to come to the obvious conclusion – that the real issue was not the dream itself. Despite what imallexx edits might guide someone to believe (with their cutesy music over compilations of smiling pictures or clips of him laughing), Alex was a young man in his twenties. And young men (who enjoy kissing) think and fantasize and dream about kissing.

And far more than kissing but regardless... He had dreamed about kissing his friends' girlfriends before: or at least Mia that one time. Ok, two times. He had dreamed about kissing cute men he saw on the train. He had even once dreamed about kissing Princess Leia.

It was natural. But Alex's thoughts about Y/N felt damning, felt wrong. Perhaps because it was the first instance in which he thought he had a chance to get the girl. Not that he would do; he refused.

It hit him. If he were always doing something else, then he would simply not have time to think about it – about her. Alex grabbed a pencil off his desk and his JoJo Siwa notebook and wrote a schedule for the coming week.

His hand cramped from furiously trying to keep up with dictating the information as it spilled from his head. He finished writing, but there were still stretches of time to fill-up including that entire morning. Was he desperate enough to disconnect from himself that he would risk the Budweiser Bug to visit his other friends outside his apartment building? Yes.

While rummaging around his bedroom for fresh(er) clothing to wear, Alex swiped a hat off his desk and concealed his unwashed hair with it. Not his tiktok bucket hat nor his iconic pink one, it was a lilac snapback with an image of lavender embroidered on the side. He rang Fraser.

“Hello?” Fraser answered with a voice bogged down with exhaustion.

“How’re you doing?” Alex greeted.

“Um.” (a pause – a processing delay) “Fine. Good. Yeah, what about you?”

“Trying to keep busy.” He tucked his wallet and keys into the pocket of a pair of joggers he found hanging, oddly enough, over the towel rail in his bathroom. Changing into them required a series of short jumping motions as he used just one hand. “You have any videos to film that I could jump in on?”

“Well I’ve been brainstorming ideas for a new series called…”

At the bathroom sink: Alex did not wait for the water to warm before splashing it over his face. He did a quick once-over and washed his cheeks and forehead with hand soap. Picking up his toothbrush from its holder stirred an uneasiness in him, he could not explain; he brushed his teeth and spit without rinsing.

Returning into the conversation he caught the middle of what would sound like a rant or passionate tangent if he did not know that was just how Fraser talked, “…and I’ve been working on a script for something on social repose—”

“Another needs to be stopped?" asked Alex.

Fraser laughed, letting it linger before continuing, "You got me. It's not done, but I could definitely use you for some reaction bits."

"Great! I'll be setting off within the hour." Ambling around – as is the norm during phone calls – Alex found himself in the kitchen. Half-full liters of lemonade, grocers bags, and dirty dishes cluttered the counters. He worked around the rubbish to make himself scrambled eggs with ham.

Fraser asked, "And you're sure about leaving the apartment? With the Bug? We could do a discord-call."

"Might as well get in some time on the train before things shut down."

"Alright, mate," there was a smile behind Fraser's voice, "just don't get arrested."

With their call ended, Alex finished cooking. He ate his entire breakfast in the same amount of time it took him to pull on his shoes.

During the train ride, he turned his phone's volume to eighty percent and blasted his music through his earbuds. His playlist was a mixture of two to three alt-rock or indie pop bands with a sprinkling of mainstream hits: a calm and comfortable backbeat throughout. No outlier tracks that burst into hard-hitting or exceptionally fast beats – nothing that might pump-up his adrenaline or be useful to scream along with in a fit of anger. That was not the connection he made with music in his formative years. Music to him was something to drown out that pesky internal monologue when lying in bed for too long – doing nothing – but perhaps pondering on some heartbreaking or otherwise emotional line in a song.

He arrived at Fraser and James' apartment when it was still technically morning. Knocking on the door, he was greeted with frantic barking and his tired ~obviously hungover~ friend.

After fussing over Kenji, Alex spotted the camera set-up in the kitchen and took his seat. Fraser and him watched several of social repose's music videos: covers of emo electronic, synth-pop songs, and a lot more original EMD songs than either man guessed – and all were dreadful. Neither could sit through a single video for more than forty-five seconds, and most of the footage they shot was just of their mouths hanging open in a disturbed shock.

Nonetheless, it was a great distraction. Alex liked feeling like he was helping out smaller channels – even if it was just those who were his friends.

Only as Fraser was cleaning up his equipment and Alex was sitting on the couch playing with Kenji, did James clamber out of bed and stroll out of his bedroom.

"Ow. What was that?" Alex asked in an exaggerated voice when the shiba nipped at yet another one of his fingers. Turning his attention to James, he asked, "Has he been biting a lot recently?"

James answered in his softer and calmer 'tired' voice, "He only bites sometimes. His brain is probably just locked on the idea of food right now; this is around the time Fraser usually feeds him."

"I just wanted a picture for instagram." Alex tried to find a good angle to hold his phone. He pushed Kenji to sit on his lap for a nice picture (which was sure to get hundreds of comments and love heart emojis), but the shiba was far too hyper to sit still. The few useable photos he got were of Kenji biting at and tugging the strings of his hoodie. "Come on, Kenj."

"Reckon he knows what you're doing with your phone, just mugging you off on purpose."

Alex hung around the apartment for the rest of the afternoon: enjoying an ubereats lunch and having James crush him at mario kart...multiple times in a row. The three talked youtube and the continuing aftershocks and effects of the ad crisis, and Fraser asked for feedback on a few video ideas.

An hour or two from sunset, Alex said his goodbyes and caught the train home to his apartment. Upon unlocking the front door, he was met with an interrogation.

"And where have you been all day?" asked George standing with his feet planted shoulder-width apart, and his arms crossed over his chest – the spitting image of a disapproving parent to a reckless teenager.

Smiling his fang-displaying side smile, Alex challenged, "Why do you need to know?"

"Sammy came over to film the opening pokemon cards video, and you weren't here. Neither of us could get a hold of you. Do you even care about my upload schedule?" It was a half-humorous rant with an eerie sense of latent seriousness.

"Phone died." He shrugged, not looking his flatmate in the eye and certainly not wanting to admit the truth – he put his phone on do not disturb earlier that morning, muting most everyone, including George and Sammy.

There was not an ounce of belief in George's expression, "Fine. Where were you, though, for real? You never leave the flat, let alone disappear; almost called Will and got a search team going."

"I was just filming with Fraser." Alex bent over to take off his trainers. There was a click from his shoulder when he did – alarming for such young bones. "We should host something soon."

And he meant soon. As talk of a complete social shutdown, rather than just more public health advisements, dominated news outlets; the thought of non-essential businesses being made to close their doors was frightening. And what was worse than the eking paranoia seeping into every day, was the horrifying realization that the pubs were considered non-essential.

Uncrossing his arms, George's posture shifted to be more normal. His brow furrowed as he seemed to examine his flatmate heavily; even so, he nodded in agreement. "Sure, we could do that."

"Great," Alex chirped and started toward his bedroom.

George grabbed his arm as he tried to walk past him. His hand clasped tight enough that his fingers touched his thumb, and nails would have dug into the pale skin – if he had nails that is. Both men were silent amongst the awkwardness of the interaction.

Sidestepping out of the armlock, Alex waited for George to speak.

"You're doing ok. Right, Al?"

"Yeah. I'm ok."

"But, you'd tell me if you weren't."

"Of course." Alex left to his bedroom. It was in a bad state, but he did not bother himself with picking clothes off the floor or taking food wrappers from his side table to the kitchen bin. He pulled his phone from his pocket and checked for messages: sure enough, there were eleven messages from George: ranging from asking where he was to blaming his laziness for ruining their chance to film.

Alex flopped himself onto his bed and started to scroll through his photos with Kenji. There was not much choice, so he took the least blurry one and posted it to instagram – with a bright filter and a sarcastic caption that took him longer to come up with than he would have liked.

Fifty minutes he spent scrolling through instagram, occasionally checking back to watch the likes on his photo go up and to reply to some of the first commenters. It was mind-numbing in the good and proper sense.

Until he saw it – and it was not his fault, he just happened upon it – and it sent his thoughts into hyperdrive.

A post. A photo. Y/N sitting on her sofa in the dark with the one light source (presumably her television) from behind the camera casting a blue light across her face. One hand clutching the blanket in her lap as the other hand was held up. Jewel-like eyes peering through her fingers and connecting with the camera. A smile playing purposefully on her lips.

If Alex's thoughts at that moment were put into a blender, they might still have come out making more sense than they did in his head. Eyes. Lips. Blue. Watching? Angelic. Eyes. Fingers. Dancing. Blue. Lips. Taste. Lips. Soft. Photographer. Photographer.

Before he might ask for the app to load more photos, Alex's burst of energy and hectic but classic over-thinking was interrupted. From above him came the sound of muffled shouting. He held his breath, stilled as if a prey animal not wanting to be spotted, and focused an ear to the noise.

There were no words he could pick out, but from what he could tell – or from the details he filled in – it was not a light argument of few words but something that might supersede a genuine scrap. And it was coming from Sammy and Y/N's apartment.

As he listened, his imagination wandered. Alex visualized himself, rushing to Y/N's aid and wrapping his thin arms around her in more emotional comfort than physical protection. He saw her turn to him with wet eyes and a red nose before burying her face into his shirt. It would be uncomfortable – as it is to be around distressed people. Yet it would be comfortable – as she would fit against him so well.

Again, his imagination wandered. Alex visualized himself as the one shouting at Y/N and growing angrier as she refused his hard-hitting gaze. He saw her turn to him with wet eyes and a red nose before hiccupping out a sob and dashing from the room. No. That was not right. It was wrong. He would not— could not do that.

#imallexx #imallexx imagine #imallexx x reader #alex elmslie #alex elmslie imagine #alex elmslie x reader #internet sensation #eboys #commentary crew #inabber #james marriott #memeulous #kenji the shiba

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madzilla84 · 4 years ago

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update

Did anyone ask for one? No. Does anyone want it? Probably not … I guess there’s still some small part of me that misses having a Livejournal.

In general, things have been - better. I started going outside a bit more from late-ish July, but honestly I don’t know if I started feeling better because I started going out, or if I started going out because I was feeling better…? A mystery. But mood tracking app - surely a reliable source of mental health info lmao - seems to agree:

(woohoo, only ‘significant burden’! i think that’s about the best you could hope for in 2020. and this was a few weeks ago, and I feel better now than I did then, so.)

I’ve been off work for the last 3 weeks - nothing wrong, just 2 weeks of scheduled annual leave, which I needed very much (I think part of why I was feeling bad was because I hadn’t had a break since February), and last week I had a week of jury duty. The break was much needed and I can feel the difference.

I started exercising again in July, and ugggggggh ok fine I admit I do feel better because of it. I’m never gonna be a gym bunny, I’ll probably never *love* it but I can’t deny the benefits. I go 3 times a week which is enough for me. (Though I only went twice last week and this week - last week I was pretty wrecked after court each day and this week I am focussing on being lazy.) Going outside again was strange at first, like the previous 4 months hadn’t happened, but it didn’t take long to feel (mostly) normal again.

I’ve also had a couple of social things, which has been nice - one lunch out at an outdoor restaurant, and one bbq at a friend’s house. (She moved in recently at the end of my street; while I was sitting in her living room I could look out of the window at my own flat. Weird!) I’ve been thinking a lot about Dan’s tweet about who he realised he wants in his life after lockdown, and it’s just. Interesting.

I’m DELIGHTED it’s September and the start of the best months, the -embers and -obers; it’s still pretty warm and mostly sunny here but it’s really nice, the bite’s gone out of the warmth. Not long now until it Gs the FO entirely. \o/ I’m still playing Animal Crossing every day, (unlike some people, smh poor abandoned Pickle).

Jury duty last week was fascinating. I didn’t even know if I’d get picked - they call more than twice as many people as they need in case anyone can’t do it for whatever reason (if one of the lawyers is a family friend or something), but I did end up being chosen. (No. 12!!) We were the first post-covid jury, and the first socially distanced one.

I *can* talk about the case now it’s over, but I don’t think I will, because the subject matter could be pretty triggering, but it was often a tough week given the nature of it. Having said that, something about it was very satisfying. It was fascinating to see how the courts and lawyers worked, and the whole process, and it was good to work with the other jurors. (Days on end of talking to actual humans was actually pretty good, for the most part.) We were all just thrown together, and we had differences of opinion of course, but it was still a good experience to work with them. It felt good to be part of something like that, something that mattered, and to feel like a part of the community in such a real way. I can be quite good at putting aside emotion to look at the letter of the law, which in a case like this can be very challenging; some of the other jurors struggled with it a great deal. (This isn’t to blow my own trumpet or anything; many would argue it was *me* who had the problem, in much the same way they often say lawyers are heartless, which isn’t true most of the time)

The case ended up being dismissed as the jury couldn’t reach a consensus - we got slated on social media (which of course I didn’t look at during the case, I caught up after), but we all stuck to our convictions and I know it was right; there’s a lot the public didn’t know or understand. As tough a case as it was, I’m glad I got to do it, it was a privilege in many ways. (But, I wouldn’t mind if it was a long time until I had to do it again, you know? lol.)

We had our phones taken from 9-5 while we were working - it’s the law - and I thought it was gonna be the worst after being glued to it constantly, but it was actually quite nice lmao. Not that I didn’t end up glued to it again once the case was over.

Fandom-wise, I have - finally - ended up taking a step back from the phandom a little bit in the last month or two. I want to talk about that a bit because it’s a complicated topic, and I see a lot of concerning posts - mainly on Twitter - that if you don’t maintain a certain level of dedication, if you join another fandom or get into something else or aren’t sufficiently devoted and supportive you - aren’t a true fan? Or something? Lots of posts along the lines of, ‘all these people getting into kpop/tv show/whatever, smh, don’t think we won’t remember when dan’s project drops and you all come running back’. It’s just a bit - weird? Like, it’s *perfectly normal* if people get into other stuff while dnp are cooking whatever they’re cooking (or not cooking, or whatever)? Or just move on, but still enjoy D&P?

I’m not, like, dramatically leaving the fandom or anything. Hell, I haven’t *left* the fandom at all, I’m still here every day, it’s - more of a mental shift. Because prior to July/August-ish this year I really wasn’t in a good place with it. I wrote a thing earlier this year about struggling with writing, and belonging while not being a content creator, and other things … the issue is that, as I tend to do with my fandoms, I get too overinvested. And sometimes, that’s okay - whatever gets you through the night and all that - but in this case, I wasn’t enjoying it any more. Some parts I was - I’ve made the best friends I’ve ever had in a fandom here, and I really like seeing everyone on here - but in general, I was spending a lot of my time feeling anxious, resentful, worried, angry and frustrated. I spent a lot of last year and almost all of this one waiting for Godot; hating the “new normal” and desperately waiting for - something that’s never going to come. I just couldn’t deal with it; probably for reasons bigger than just D&P but that’s how it manifested. I got more and more frustrated by the content we were getting because it wasn’t what I’d hoped, and I hated feeling like that. It took up way too much of my thoughts and every day was just waiting, and wondering, and worrying. And I got so, so sick of it.

So, where am I now? Well, it was inevitable really, but I just started to - let go, a bit. I didn’t throw my hands up and go, ’bah, screw these guys!’, my mental focus just shifted (for my own good), and I started focussing on other things. Other fandoms. Games and hobbies I can distract myself with. I’ll admit it wouldn’t necessarily have been my *choice*, you know? But reality is what it is and I’m - relieved, really, that I’m not unnecessarily tormenting myself about it any more. It took me a long time to reach this place - too long, really - and, for now at least, it’s kind of nice. I can just enjoy things if/when they pop up without the accompanying sadness and anger about how everything is changed, about what has ended and what I’ve “lost”. (And it’s not 100%, by the way; it’s still there, just - quiet, now.) I can look at, I dunno, someone’s gifs of Dan or whatever, and just smile about it rather than feeling that grief. (Or, feel it, but not to the exclusion of everything else.) It’s - nicer.

And it isn’t at *all* that I don’t care any more, I still love them, of course I do, and will continue to follow them and watch everything they do. I’m not going anywhere. I still have notifs on, though they don’t quite send my heart into my throat like they did. ;) In a way it’s helping me love them more, because now when I watch them I enjoy it more, appreciating the fun and the bants without laser-focussing on my own anger and sadness. I’m still attending our little daily phannie watch-alongs, where we watch a couple of eps of DAPG and an anime. I’m still on phandom tumblr/twitter on the daily. It just - has a slightly smaller portion of my brain and mental energy now.

It was a step I needed to take, but also one I’m not sure I could have *chosen* to take, not without deliberately leaving and cutting it all off completely? And I didn’t want to do that. I’d hoped I’d get to this place earlier than this - some 20 months after the fact - but better late than never, I suppose.

(Also, disclaimer - fandom and the human heart are funny things, and I fully accept I can and probably will be sucked completely back in at any time.)

Anyway! SEE YOU AT THE QUIZ :D

#mad.txt #tw covid #personal

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ilovereadingandilovebreathing · 5 years ago

Note

Could I request Tony having a stressful day and Peter giving him a hug? Cause heck they both deserve hugs and Iron dad does not get nearly enough ^-^ thank you so much if you do!!

Absolutely yes. I can’t remember when you sent this, precious anon, but I finally have an answer. Sorry this is WAY more IronFam than you probably wanted, but that’s where my brain went. Sorry. I hope you like it. ♥ Canon-wise....we’re ignoring it, as always. Endgame ended less painfully.

Warnings for strong language, needle reference (EpiPen), minor Good Will Hunting spoilers

Ever have one of those days where everything seems to go wrong from the moment your feet hit the floor?

Tony’s having one of those days, and he hasn’t even gotten out of bed yet.

.................................

It’s exactly 3:47am when the entire lake house is suddenly lit up brighter than Christmas; every single screwed-in bulb in Tony’s house is on as bright as it will go, and just moments later the emergency alarm is blaring in Tony’s ears.

“Holy shit-” Tony groans and pushes himself out of bed as quickly as his aching muscles will allow. Pepper shoots up beside him, her hands thrown over her ears as she looks to him in a panic. “FRIDAY, what the FUCK is going on?!”

“Security breach detected on the roof, Boss; a window at the back west entrance.”

“I swear to GOD, if Peter tried to sneak in without waking me up again-”

“Mr. Parker is not scheduled to arrive until approximately 4:47 this afternoon, Boss-”

“I know, FRI; I know. Thanks for the update.” Tony runs a hand down his face as Pepper shoots out of bed and toward Morgan’s room. “Do we have a visual on the break-in point?”

“There are not currently cameras within that vicinity, Boss.”

“Why the hell not? Clearly it’s not secure.”

“Here, Boss.”

Tony grits his teeth when his own voice accompanies the screaming emergency siren. “We don’t need to spend any more time or money on the damn security cameras, Hap; we’ve covered damn inch of the house and a whole acre around it with surveillance. Only bugs could get in here without us knowing already.”

“Okay, okay, wise ass. Turn off the incriminating evidence.” Tony grabs a bluetooth earpiece and activates his wrist gauntlet while hustling toward his bedroom door. He’s just gotten downstairs when FRIDAY pipes up again.

“Incoming call from ‘Forehead of Security,’ Boss.”

“Put him through.”

“Tony?!” Happy’s voice is somehow groggy and alert at the same time. “What the hell is going on?”

“About to go investigate, Hap. A breach on the roof.”

“Oh my god, Tony-”

“I know; I know. You told me so. Trust me, FRIDAY covered that already.”

“Tony, I don’t think you should go alone-”

“Then get someone up here ASAP. I’m going. It’s 4 in the damn morning, and I’d love to at least get some peace before my 7am meeting.” Tony slowly peels the front door open and pads across the porch and into the yard. He slowly circles the house, Happy’s breathing the only sounds in his ears. “Don’t see anything....” He murmurs before crossing to a compartment he built into the side of the house to house (read: hide) ladders. He’s just propping the aluminum against the roof when Happy speaks up.

“Wait, is that a ladder? Tony, are you sure you’re okay to-”

“It’s fine, Hap.”

“Tony-”

Tony is on the roof before Happy can protest any further. The exhausted engineer carefully creeps across the roof toward the window. “FRI, where exactly am I going?”

“According to security sensors, the first window pane facing the west; I believe it should be around the corner from your vantage point.”

“Gotcha.” Tony approaches slowly, hand extended and ready to shoot if necessary. “I don’t know who the hell you are or how the hell you got here, but-” He rounds the corner and freezes, his blood boiling from his head to his toes.

“FRIDAY. Remind me to update security protocol to ignore idiotic birds who can’t figure out that windows don’t move.”

“Done, Boss.”

-------

By the time Tony makes it back inside and upstairs, and Pepper and Morgan are waiting for him in their bed. Pepper smiles at him tiredly.

“Job well done?”

“No job to be done.” Tony grumbles. “The idiot bird killed itself before I even got to it. Not a pretty sight.”

Pepper cringes, and Morgan whines and reaches out for her father; Tony’s heart clenches at the tear tracks on her cheeks.

“It’s okay, Morguna. Just a rogue bird.”

“Careful, sweetie-” Pepper guides Morgan into Tony’s arms, taking care around his puckered skin. The girl settles in Tony’s lap, chest to chest, and snuggles against him.

“Well, so much for a good night’s sleep.” Tony grumbles as he rubs Morgan’s back absent-mindedly.

Pepper sighs in agreement and settles in beside him, pulling up the covers and switching on their television, volume down low. “At least we can have a slow morning, right?”

“A very slow morning.” Tony pulls out his phone and thumbs through the messages that have accumulated already; Morgan and Pepper doze quietly around him.

When the clock hits 5:30, FRIDAY quietly speaks up. “Might I suggest food and a shower before your meeting? You have plenty of time, so it could be an easy morning. I am sure your doctors would agree.”

“Oh but my dear, FRIDAY,” Tony whispers. “If I were well, they wouldn’t get paid as handsomely.”

The AI is silent, and he sighs. “Fine.” Tony gently nudges Pepper awake, explaining the plan, and she takes their daughter, burrowing back into the covers with her for a few more precious minutes of rest.

Tony soon finds that FRIDAY is right (not that he would ever admit that to her); somehow the steaming water makes him feel less icky (it’s early, okay?), and he’s soon in the kitchen with the stove on, cracking an egg with one hand and stifling a yawn with the other. This soon proves to be a mistake, though, because the egg misses the pan and lands on his foot with a silent splat.

“Ugh, really?! I just cleaned that foot....”

After an otherwise uneventful breakfast, Tony heads to his office to video call into his meeting which ends up being far more eventful than he bargained for, but he supposes in the end that can only be expected when government officials are involved.

“Stark, we can’t keep this quiet anymore. The public needs to know what our plans are going forward.”

“And they will once we actually have them.” Tony licks his teeth in frustration. “I’m tired of talking in circles. We’ve been at this for 3 hours, and I’m over it. I’m not wasting anymore time here today. Next time we meet, please have something drafted that we can actually look over. In the mean time, I’ll be with my daughter.”

“Stark-”

Tony hangs up and sighs, sinking back into his chair. Simultaneously, his office door creaks open. “Daddy?”

“You psychic or something?” Tony turns in his chair and opens an arm for Morgan.

“FRIDAY told me you were done.”

“Oh, how kind of her. Were you asking her constantly or was she just that nice?”

Morgan shrugs, and he kisses her temple.

“What’s the plan for today, little miss? Aren’t you happy Mommy and Daddy put you in a school where you get Friday’s off?”

Morgan shrugs again and tucks closer against his side.

“What’s up, buttercup?”

“Mommy doesn’t feel good.”

Tony’s brows crease at that.

“Yeah? How so?”

“She’s on the couch with a washcloth on her face; she told me I need to be quiet.”

“Shit.” Tony picks up Morgan with one arm and opens the door with the other. He keeps a finger over his lips as they quietly cross into the living room where Morgan has set up a barricade of stuffed animals around her mother. “Nice touch.” Tony whispers before placing a peck on Morgan’s nose. He carefully sits the girl on the floor before crossing to Pepper. “Hey, Pep.” Tony whispers as quietly as possible; his heart stutters when he sees silent tears tracing down Pepper’s cheeks. “Let’s go upstairs, huh? I’ll handle business down here.”

Pepper nods as minutely as possible.

Tony carefully slides an arm behind her back and helps sit her up; he gently coaxes her to her feet and takes as much of her weight as he can, leaning their heads together as he walks his wife upstairs. Once he’s helped Pepper into bed and loaded her up with everything she could need, Tony places the tenderest of kisses on her lips. She sighs and settles as he leaves.

“FRI, let me know if she needs anything. Even if she doesn’t ask.” Tony whispers as he heads back downstairs.

“Of course, Boss.”

“Daddy? Is Mommy gonna be okay?”

“Yeah, baby, she’ll be fine, just not right now. Mommy gets migraines sometimes.”

“What’s that?”

“You know when your head hurts sometimes?”

Morgan nods.

“Like that, but sometimes Mommy can’t see, either.” Tony decides that’s all the detail Morgan needs to know that it’s serious.

“That sounds scary.” Morgan bites her lips.

“It can be, but we’re taking good care of her, so she’ll be fine. What about you? What’s the plan for today?”

Morgan shrugs.

“It’s pretty outside today. We can play in your fort if you want.”

Morgan nods and goes to gather her drawing materials. “Can you read to me?”

“Why don’t we read to each other? You’re supposed to be learning, right? How about Curious George?”

Morgan nods again and scampers off to get the book.

Tony sighs in one of the few moments of solitude and true peace he figures he’ll get that day. At least Morgan’s fort faced away from the gory sight on the roof.

-----

Tony wishes he could trade in the ESP he’s seemed to have developed for bad days. He spends a few calm hours in the fort with Morgan; they read multiple volumes of Curious George and color multiple pictures of kittens before lunch time comes around.

When Tony has his back turned, gathering Morgan’s crayons amid the overturned box, his daughter lets out a screech that makes his blood freeze. He whips around to find Morgan squatted on the ground with one hand gripping the other tightly and tears streaming down her cheeks.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“I-I-I think I g-got biiiiiiiiiit!” Morgan wails, and Tony quickly sees that she does indeed have large, red welts covering her hand as well as a few stray, tiny ants.

“Shit-” Tony abandons the crayons and grabs up Morgan, knowing that the bumps should not be that big or swollen. Tony races into the house with Morgan, and calls, “FRIDAY? Call the closest hospital and have the car ready with the route.” He digs through the kitchen medicine cabinet and pulls out the EpiPen that Tony had insisted they keep around in the rare event that Pepper came into contact with strawberries. Call him paranoid, but apparently that would pay off today.

“On it, Boss.”

“Is Pepper awake?”

“Not currently, Boss. She has fallen asleep.”

“Thank god. If she wakes up, fill her in.”

“Of course, Boss.”

“Okay, Morgs. This is gonna hurt a little, but just a pinch. It’ll make you feel better, okay?” Tony braces himself before stabbing the EpiPen into Morgan’s thigh; the girl cries and jerks but ultimately just holds on tighter as her father whispers soothing words into her ear.

They’re in the car and speeding down the road before Tony can properly breathe again, Morgan strapped in the backseat and still whimpering.

“It’ll be okay, baby; I promise.” This is his mantra all the way to the closest emergency clinic. Thankfully, Morgan’s allergy isn’t life-threatening, but after doing all the research he could about allergies and anaphylaxis because of Pepper, Tony had refused to risk it.

It’s 2:30 when they finally get back to the silent house, and Tony carries a slumbering Morgan to the couch and collapses. He knows he should put her in her bed to nap, but moments like today remind him to keep her close.

Tony doesn’t even realize he’s fallen asleep until he hears the front door open. He cracks an eye to find Peter Parker frozen in the doorway and staring at him and Morgan on the couch.

“I can go-” Peter mouths and thumbs back to where the car that brought him is idling.

“No, it’s fine, kid.” Tony groans and stretches as best he can with Morgan still clinging onto him like an octopus. “If we don’t get up, we won’t sleep tonight.”

“If you’re sure....”

“Get over here and help an old man with his clingy koala kid, will you?”

Peter laughs unexpectedly and waves the driver outside away.

“Morgan? Mo? Guess who’s here? It’s your favorite boy-”

“You’re my favorite.” Morgan mumbles sleepily.

“Faker.” Tony squeezes her tight and then releases her completely. “I’m not a boy; your old dad is an old man.”

Morgan scrunches up her nose in protest and curls back into him.

“Go see Peter; Dad needs to pee.”

“TMI, Mr.-uh, Tony.” It’s Peter’s turn to scrunch up his nose, and Tony just grins.

“I’m a fan of transparency, Pete.”

“Since when?”

Tony rolls his eyes as Peter scoops Morgan into his arms.

“Hey, monkey.” Peter all but cooes at her, and Tony suppresses a grin. No one turns men to putty like Morgan Stark. “You can cling on to me for a little bit, okay? Your dad needs a break.”

Morgan whines for show but immediately wraps her arms around Peter’s neck and burrows her face into his shoulder.

“Where’s Miss-um, Pepper?”

“Migraine.”

“Ooo.” Peter frowns in sympathy.

“Yeah. I’ve been on Morgan duty today. Fill you in when I get back.” Tony scoots out of the room, and Peter laughs after him.

“Only about the rest of the day, please!”

Tony chuckles in return. When he comes back out, he finds Morgan awake and propped against Peter’s side, a stuffed animal squished in between them as he reads quietly from Curious George.

“George is a hit today, it seems.” Tony comments and sits on the other side of Morgan.

“Ssshh Peter’s reading!”

“I see that. You know what we should be doing is eating because I know three Starks who skipped lunch today and a Parker who has a crazy big appetite.”

“Can we have s’ghetti?”

“Spaghetti?”

“S’ghetti!” Morgan insists and giggles.

“I suppose so, though I’ll make sure to include more ingredients than you do letters. Come help me.” Tony gestures and both kids rise and follow him to the kitchen.

Peter cuts vegetables for the salad; Morgan hand-shreds lettuce and butters the garlic bread, and Tony handles all things pasta and sauce; they all chat amicably between them, Tony and Peter filling each other in on that Friday’s events with Morgan pitching in to Tony’s side often.

Beckoned by the smells wafting from downstairs, Pepper manages to come down for dinner, looking tired but functional when she sees her little family settling in for a meal together. Peter quickly crosses and helps her to the table; she embraces him lightly and places a kiss in his hair before sitting, steering him back to the kitchen with a light pat on his back.

Morgan eagerly serves her mother her salad, also receiving hugs and kisses from the quiet woman, and settles in at her seat.

Peter smiles at the two and turns to the kitchen to find Tony dishing up the pasta and facing away from him. Before Peter can really think about it, he’s crossed the floor tiles and wrapped his arms around Tony’s waist, his head resting heavily against his father figure’s back.

Tony tenses for a moment before his brow creases in worry. “You okay, Pete?”

“Fine.” Peter breathes. “Just happy to be here.”

“Me, too, buddy.” Tony squeezes Peter’s arm, knowing the implied conversation that has passed between them countless times since he got Peter back. They stand like this for a moment, appreciating the quiet peace after a chaotic day, listening to Morgan and Pepper quietly talking in the next room before Peter sighs and steps back.

“Want some help?”

“What? You think I can’t carry four plates of spaghetti on my own?”

“No, and you probably shouldn’t try.”

“You’re probably right.”

The meal passes peacefully, the main issue being Morgan’s inability to eat pasta and tomato sauce in a clean manner, and soon Tony and Peter are alone in the sitting room, Good Will Hunting playing quietly on the television as they stare languidly at the screen.

“Big day, huh?” Tony chuckles as Peter settles heavily into the couch next to him. The boy’s hand and arm are propping up his head, his eyes hooded.

“Yeah. I kinda skipped the patrol details so Morgan wouldn’t freak out.”

“When did you patrol?”

“I’m on minimum day this semester.”

“Right, right.”

“Yeah, I, uh, stopped an armed robbery. A lady up in one of the swankier districts that doesn’t have super tight security.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. She was really nice. Offered me a reward,” Peter yawns and stretches. “But I couldn’t take it, you know? Didn’t seem right.”

“And you made it out without a scratch this time?”

“For once, yeah.”

“You’re improving.”

“So, ant allergies, huh?”

Tony sighs. “Yup, so we’ll have to fortify Morgan’s fort from now on. I’m amazed we didn’t find out sooner, quite frankly.”

Peter hums in reply.

“Hey, Tony?” Peter pipes up after a few minutes of silence.

“Yeah, Pete?”

“You’re a great dad....And mentor.” Peter stutters out after a moment of hesitation.

Tony looks over, but Peter refuses to look back, his eyes pointedly glued to the screen where Will Hunting is sobbing and holding on to Sean like a lifeline. Tony sighs and taps Peter’s shoulder. “Come here, kid.”

Peter sighs, making a big show of how tired he is and how troubled by Tony’s request he pretends to be, but he melts against Tony when the man hugs him against his side and remains there when Tony lets go.

“Comfy?”

Peter nods, nearly cross-eyed from trying to keep his eyes open, and Tony chuckles. “Go to sleep, kiddo. We can finish this tomorrow.”

Peter scrunches up his face in protest, but Tony feels the teen’s dead weight against his side. “Seriously, kid. I can’t sleep here, and I can’t carry you upstairs. Let’s go.” Tony turns off the television and coaxes Peter to his feet; he keeps one arm around Peter’s shoulders to guide him upstairs and to his appointed room.

“Good night, Peter.”

“Good...night.” Peter slurs before pulling Tony in for a tight hug and collapsing into his bed.

“Clingy today, huh?” Tony comments as he tucks the kid in.

Peter’s words are light and wispy as air as he breathes out, “May says...hugs are the best...remedy for a bad...day.”

“She’s a smart lady.” Tony runs a hand through Peter’s hair. “Night, bud.”

Peter just hums quietly before turning over.

Tony quietly slips into his room and into bed, careful not to disturb Pepper. He settles in with a deep sigh, and stares at the ceiling as he wills himself into sleep. As his mind wanders, he reflects on the insanity of the day but finds for once that a warmth has settled in his chest. He thinks of Morgan, safe in her bed, and Pepper, safely beside him, and Peter, safe in his room, and the quiet support from all of them, and for once, Tony Stark slips into a full night of restful sleep.

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