#by the way I really appreciate the gentle pats on the head and enthusiastic responses from everyone last time

[specialagentsergio]

all we can do is keep breathing || chapter two

summary: Spencer’s doing better, but recovery isn’t linear, and some scars run deeper than either of you knew.

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

category: angst (eventual happy ending)

content warnings: swearing, drug abuse & addiction, substance use disorder, ptsd, descriptions of panic attacks/ptsd episodes, recollection of past bullying, unhealthy coping mechanisms, yelling/fighting, negative feelings towards other team members, body image issues

a/n: i was so taken aback by the response to chapter one--i didn’t think anyone would even read it tbh. thank you all and thanks for being patient with my lack of an upload schedule. i'm so sorry the word count is massive again. you get tummy appreciation, though, because 1) we all love spencer’s tummy, and 2) i personally gained weight when i was in residential treatment and it can be a bit of a mindfuck lol.

a/n 2: repeated disclaimer that i'm not a doctor, psychologist, psychiatrist, etc., just a direct care staff, past rtc patient and trauma recovery enthusiast. the horse therapy is pretty much entirely based on my own personal experience from nearly a decade ago, so don’t expect it to be an accurate portrayal of equine-assisted psychotherapy.

word count: 7.3k

song: you will be found from dear evan hansen

fic masterlist || masterlist

He’s been looking forward to the start of equine therapy since he got a spot in the program. But instead of being excited the morning of, Spencer ends up crying for an hour straight.

The day started off fine. It wasn’t hard to get up with the horses to look forward to, and he was able to get an extra plate at breakfast, so he could keep the pancake syrup from touching the eggs and sausage. Art therapy was a few hours later. He’d started to actually enjoy the pottery project—the recreational therapist had brought him a box of disposable gloves to use so the feeling of drying clay on his hands was no longer a problem.

Everyone’s projects were coming out of the kiln today and the next step was painting them. He’d been planning out the design and colors he wanted to use since the project started and was excited to finally start applying it.

Then he dropped his item, it broke into pieces, and he burst into tears.

He’d fled the room on instinct alone and curled up in a corner of the hallway, pressing his knees to his forehead. He was upset about the pottery, and upset that he was so affected by it breaking. He felt stupid and silly for crying over it, which only made him cry harder.

He heard distant laughter and he clapped his hands over his ears. He was being laughed at again for being a crybaby. He didn’t want to be a crybaby. He wanted to stop crying, he just couldn’t. The goalpost was cold against the bare skin of his back, and his wrists were starting to burn from the ties.

I want to go home. Just let me go home, please, I’ll do anything. Let me go, let me go--

“Spencer, it’s okay. You’re safe here. Can you repeat after me? I’m safe here.”

Safe here. Safe here.

Art therapy was over by the time he came out of it.

He has lunch at his therapist’s office instead of with the group. Lara asks what his flashback had been to.

He picks at his food. “It happened a long time ago. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Alright. Can you tell me how it felt instead?”

Spencer isn’t really hungry, but bites into his sandwich to stall for time. She doesn’t rush him. Eventually, he asks, “Do you know what alexithymia means?”

“No words for feelings,” she replies.

He nods. “That’s all.”

Lara opens one of her desk drawers and pulls out a composition notebook, which she then hands to him.

“What’s this for?”

“I want you to start trying to notice your feelings and sensations throughout the day. Make some kind of note, even if you don’t exactly have the words to describe it.”

He sighs. “Why?”

“Just noticing what you feel can help you develop emotional regulation,” she explains. She’s always been honest with him about the why of what she wants him to try and do. “It’s going to help you stop ignoring what’s going on inside you.”

I don’t want to do that.

“I know you don’t.”

“I didn’t mean to say that out loud,” he blurts. “That either. I—god.” He quickly takes another bite of food before he can say more.

“It’s fine. I didn’t expect you to like it,” Lara says with a small smile. “I’m sure the thought of confronting what you’ve been suppressing and avoiding is scary. But getting better requires you to do a lot of scary things.”

Spencer wants to protest. Being strapped to a chair in a shed and dosed against your will is scary. Your mother being diagnosed with Alzheimer's is scary. Being sent to prison for a crime you didn’t commit is scary. Feeling things? That’s not scary.

Isn’t it?

He tries not to think on it too much.

Despite the unpleasant thoughts running through his mind, Spencer finds himself nodding off on the van ride to the horse ranch. His eyes unfocus, his blink rate slows… and then he jerks back awake at the sensation of his head falling forward.

A frustrated noise escapes the back of his throat. He’s sick of feeling tired all the time. He’s getting enough sleep in theory, but still finds himself drowsy at least once a day. It’s to the point that he’s regularly wearing his glasses instead of his contacts to keep his eyes from feeling quite so dry. He pushes them back up now as he tries to tune back in to his surroundings.

“… don’t get how seeing some horse is supposed to make me feel better.” That’s Aiden’s voice. He’s Spencer’s new roommate. He wasn’t happy when he found out he was getting a new one, having much preferred having the room to himself, but it’s been okay so far, mostly because they keep out of each other’s way. Aiden seems uninterested in making friends, and that suits Spencer just fine. Lara’s been encouraging him to talk to fellow patients instead of just the direct care staff, but he’s resisted it. The last time he befriended someone, they ended up--

Spencer’s fine with the two of them keeping to themselves.

Melanie, one of the staff accompanying them, is leaned over the back of the middle seat as she talks to Aiden. “Well, I couldn’t tell you why exactly, but I’ve seen this program help a lot of people in my time here,” she says. “Spencer?”

“What?”

“You’ve been reading a lot about horses, right?” At his nod, she continues, “What have you found out?”

“Equine-assisted psychotherapy lacks the rigorous scientific evidence to demonstrate if it provides benefits in mental health treatment. Horses have been used to aid in psychiatric treatment since the 1990’s, though,” he says. He intends to stop there, but can’t stop himself from continuing. “It doesn’t necessarily involve riding, but may include grooming, feeding, and ground exercises. The goal is to help the client in social, emotional, cognitive, and or behavioral ways.”

He can feel Aiden’s eyes on him and takes a breath before meeting them. He knows all too well that his infodumps aren’t always well received. He doesn’t want to be friends, but would prefer for his roommate to not view him with disdain or annoyance. But Aiden looks interested, and says as much--”that’s interesting.” He looks like he wants to say more, but doesn’t, and there’s silence between them for the remainder of the drive. It’s not uncomfortable, though.

When the van pulls into a parking spot and everyone starts to get out, Spencer begins to feel nervous. He’s read everything he could get his hands on, but as a relatively new therapy, there’s no standard program; it varies by facility, so he doesn’t know exactly what to expect. He’s been looking forward to this, but what if it turns out to be a bad fit for him? What if the people here don’t like him? What if the horses don’t like him?

He hangs at the back of their group of ten—six patients and two staff—as they’re led to a shaded area. They’re introduced to the program director and assistants, and are given an overview of what they’ll be doing over the next six weeks. They won’t be riding the horses, just doing groundwork (he’s not sure if he feels relieved or disappointed). Then he learns that intention of this specific program isn’t just for the horses to help the clients—the clients are to help the horses as well. The animals all have the gentle temperaments suited for therapy, but also have their own struggles. A lot of them were adopted out of poor situations.

They’re led to a circular corral next and spaced equidistantly around the edge. Spencer’s heart rate picks up as the horses are brought in—the animals will be picking their therapy partner, the director says. As they’re let off their leads a jolt of anxiety runs through his body, making him twitch slightly. This feels uncomfortably familiar to school P.E. when teams were picked. No one wanted him then. What’s gong to happen if none of the horses want him, either? He looks down at his shoes.

But just a few moments later, he hears his name, and looks up to see one of the horses approaching him. “Looks like you and Chance are our first pair,” the director is saying.

First?

Chance is almost entirely black, save for a spot of white between his eyes and above his nose. His size is a little intimidating, but his demeanor is gentle. One of the assistants comes up to Spencer and instructs him to hold out his hand so the horse can sniff it.

His hand trembles slightly as he lifts it. Warm breath hits his fingers as Chance sniffs at it. Then the horse presses his nose completely against his hand. The moistness would usually bother Spencer, but for some reason it doesn’t. Instead, a smile slowly spreads across his face. The assistant tells him he can pet Chance now. He runs his hand up and down the horse’s snout, and despite the slight coarseness of the hair, finds it soothing.

The horse shuffles closer when Spencer is given his lead to hold. A startled laugh escapes him when Chance presses his nose into his neck. He pats his head a few times, then takes a tiny step back. He’s thrilled that at least one of the horses likes him, but feels a little crowded by the large animal. To his surprise, Chance seems to understand, and takes a step back of his own.

He absently pats his horse as he watches the rest of the group pair up. He still can’t believe he was picked first.

The rest of their time with the horses is very simple. They’re taught how to lead them, and after practicing in the corral, they take the horses back to their paddocks. Spencer’s disappointed to say goodbye already, but understands the need to not overwhelm the horses or even themselves. “I’ll see you next week,” he finds himself whispering to Chance.

There’s ten minutes left in the session, and it’s spent with the director telling them more about each horses’ specific background. Chance was poorly treated by his previous owner, mostly kept locked up in a small barn and not properly cared for. He has many talents and abilities, the director says. He needs to learn that he didn’t deserve to be treated the way he was, and be told that he is brave.

Spencer rests his chin in his hand and stares out the window on the drive back to the treatment center. He knows from his reading that horses are emotionally intelligent creatures, but he’s still… well, amazed by how the horses all picked who was most similar to them out of the group instinctively.

He feels more understood by an animal he’s interacted with for twenty minutes than he has by a person for months.

Before bed that night, he chews on the stem of his pen cap, thinking over the events of his day. Slowly, in a manner that could almost be described as cautious, he picks up the empty composition book Lara gave him and opens it. His hand hovers over the blank page for a few moments, then he puts pen on paper and begins to write.

---

You made dinner reservations for his visit this Saturday. You’re getting ready for it when there’s a knock on the front door.

“I’ll get it,” Spencer calls from the living room.

You return to fixing your hair up. You’re not expecting anyone, so it’s probably just a package or a neighbor. But just a few moments later, you hear Spencer raise his voice.

“No! No, I don’t—don’t touch me, please.”

You’re only half dressed, but hurry out to the living room anyways. When you round the corner, you immediately see what the problem is: JJ has dropped by unexpectedly.

It’s not that Spencer doesn’t want to see his team. They just bring memories with them, and he had decided shortly after his birthday that he wasn’t ready to confront that yet.

He’s standing a little ways back from the door, staring at JJ while she looks back with hurt on her face. “Spence--” she starts before she sees you.

At Spencer’s side, you place a hand on his arm and he takes a step behind you. “JJ, what are you doing here?”

She struggles to keep her eyes off of him as she answers. “(Y/N), I’m sorry, I just—Will and I made cookies with the boys today and we had a lot of extra, so I just wanted to drop some off for you. I—I didn’t know Spence was here. I didn’t mean to--”

You hold up a hand to stop her. “It’s okay, JJ. You couldn’t have known. You were just trying to do something nice.”

She nods, relieved at your understanding. “Yeah. Yeah, I….” She blows out a breath, then holds out a plastic wrapped plate of cookies to you. You take it from her with a quiet thank you. Then she looks back to the man that’s essentially hiding behind you as best as he can, despite how tall he is. “Spence, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you wouldn’t want me to touch you.”

There’s a tug on your clothing as he curls his fingers into the fabric on the small of your back. You tilt your head to look at him, but his gaze is on the floor. “You…” he glances up once, then looks back down. “You should ask next time,” he says quietly.

“Okay,” she replies, just as softly. “I will.”

You bite down on the inside of your cheeks to hold back a smile. Spencer often struggles to advocate for his needs, especially with his friends and colleagues, in fear of being a burden or more of a nuisance than he thinks others already perceive him as. He did it a lot with you when you first started dating. It took a lot of time and reassurance that yes, you really did want to know his wants and needs, for him to open up. Telling JJ to ask before touching him may seem small from the outside, but it’s a big deal for him.

After a rather awkward silence, JJ speaks again. “Well, um, I should get going. Just… let us know if you need anything, okay, Spence? We—the team, we’re all here for you.”

“That’s rich,” Spencer mutters behind you and you freeze. You recognize that edge to his voice. It’s usually accompanied by sharp words and remarks that he’ll regret later.

Please please please tell me JJ didn’t hear that.

“I’m sorry?”

Fuck.

“I hate to rush you out, JJ, but we have dinner reservations, so--” you try to interject but Spencer speaks over you.

“I’m just saying, why should I believe you’re here for me when you weren’t last time?”

JJ’s eyebrows come together. “I… don’t understand, I’ve always--”

“No, you haven’t!” It’s like Spencer can’t get the words out fast enough, the way he keeps interrupting before either of you can finish a sentence. This is clearly something that’s been weighing on him. You just wish he was unloading it onto his therapist rather than poor JJ, his best friend outside of you, who’s just trying to be nice. “Ten years ago I was shooting up in police station bathrooms and Emily is the only one who said a damn thing.”

His grip on your clothes tightens, forcing you to take a step back. You move the plate of cookies to one hand and reach back with the other, circling it around his wrist. “Spencer.”

Realization dawns on JJ’s face and she crosses her arms. “Spence, I couldn’t--”

“You couldn’t.” The little laugh he lets out derisive. “Yeah, I’ve heard that before.”

You don’t know where all this is coming from or what he’s referring to, but JJ does, her expression hardening.

“You know what would have happened if the higher ups found out,” she says. “I was protecting your job. We all were.”

“You shouldn’t have!” he cries, emotions other than anger seeping into the words. “This damn job is one of the worst things that’s ever happened to me! I got anthrax poisoning, I still have issues with my knee from being shot. I nearly died from a shot in the neck, and let’s not forget, I was framed for murder by a psychopath I arrested, who then kidnapped my mother while I was in prison! Oh, and what else? Oh right, this job is the reason I’m a fucking addict in the first place!”

JJ’s clearly trying to hold back tears now, but one slips out and your heart aches for her. You close your eyes briefly and take a deep breath, then speak quietly but firmly. “Spencer, you need to leave the room.”

You can hear him breathing shakily behind you. “(Y/N)--”

“Now.” You squeeze his wrist and he finally lets go of your clothing. He takes a few steps away, stops, turns back and opens his mouth to say something, but at the look you give him, shuts it and continues on his way out.

A sniffle draws your attention back to JJ, who’s looking up at the ceiling and swiping at the tears sliding down. “Sorry,” she mutters. “I shouldn’t have come by without giving you a heads-up. I’ve just made things worse.”

“No, JJ, don’t be sorry. It--” There’s thumping noises from further back in the apartment so you step forward and shut the front door behind you. She has her arms wrapped around herself when you turn back.

“It’s not your fault,” you continue. “You were just trying to be nice. You’re a good friend to him. He’s just… everything is really raw for him right now, if that makes sense?”

She nods, wiping at her eyes again.

“It’s, uh, not an excuse, though,” you clarify. “That’s not what I’m trying to say. You didn’t do anything wrong. That was all him, so please don’t blame yourself.”

JJ is quiet for a bit, staring at the floor. Then she says, “I should get going.”

“Yeah, that’s probably for the best,” you agree quietly. Realizing you’re still holding the plate of cookies in one hand, you lift it slightly and add, “Thanks for these. And, um… I’m so sorry about that.”

She shakes her head and glances at the door. “Don’t be. Like you said, it was all him,” she murmurs.

You know she’s right, but you’re still barely able to stop yourself from apologizing again as she descends the stairs. You can’t help but feel like you should have done more, stopped him somehow, even though you don’t know how you could have. The way his behavior changed… it was like he wanted to get it all out, and when Spencer Reid wants to say something, it’s nearly impossible to get him to stop.

The apartment isn’t quiet when you walk back in. There’s the scraping and clatter of a desk drawer, followed by frantic footsteps and the thud of books falling off the shelves. You know what he’s doing, and you know he won’t find anything, so you just lock the front door and continue on to the kitchen to put the cookies away.

You lean on the counter and cover your face with your hands. It doesn’t matter if you mess up your hair or face, or anything, really, because you’re not making it to dinner anymore.

You stay like that for a while, eyes closed, trying to think of a place to even start with Spencer after all of that. When the sounds of him tearing through the apartment stop, you lift you head back up and promptly jump—he’s staring at you from the nearest doorway.

“Jesus, Spencer--”

“Where’s my stuff?” he asks, and the seriousness in his tone of voice makes your anxiety spike. You know exactly what he means by stuff.

“It’s gone. What did you think was gonna happen?”

“Yeah, but it’s…” he trails off and his expression puzzles you. It almost looks like he’s confused. “It’s all gone.”

Ah. “Yeah, well, I know you think you’re sneaky, but you’re very much the opposite when you’re not sober,” you reply. “Finding your hiding spots wasn’t hard.”

He drops his gaze to the floor, frowning. “I don’t like it when you move my things,” he says quietly.

“I don’t like it when you use,” you counter.

He visibly flinches, then his hand tightens on the door frame. “I’m not going to—to take it, I just want to hold it. Where’s my stuff?” he repeats.

“Holding it, right,” you sigh.

“It’s comforting,” he argues.

“Even if I believed that, it wouldn’t matter, Spencer. I threw it all out. There’s none here.”

The humming noise he makes is angry, and he rocks back and forth on his feet in an agitated manner. “You shouldn’t… I don’t….”

I don’t have the energy for this. It’s a thought you feel terrible about as soon as you have it, but it’s the truth. Lara had cautioned you before his first visit that he was going to be hypersensitive to disappointment and frustration until he learned how to cope with the feelings he’d been using the Dilaudid to block out. Unfortunately, the information, while useful, didn’t always make his emotional extremes easier to deal with.

You run a hand down your face. “Spencer…” you start. You’re not sure what to continue with, but you don’t have to—for whatever reason, that sets him off.

He tears his eyes away from the floor to glare at you. “Don’t—don’t touch my things ever again!” Then he turns and all but runs to the bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

You suck in a breath and drop your head to the counter. The marble is cool and you thump your forehead against it gently a few times, focusing on breathing in and out slowly to calm down. When you’re ready, you walk as quietly as you can to the bedroom door and press your ear against it to hear the unmistakable sound of Spencer sobbing into his pillow.

Part of you wants to go in and comfort him, but you suspect that you’d just make it worse right now since some of his frustration is directed at you. And truth be told, you’re frustrated with him, too. So you retreat to the living room, flopping down on the couch and pulling out your phone to call the restaurant to cancel your reservations. Doing so is more upsetting than you expected; a few tears of your own slide down your face after you hang up. Before you know it, you’re calling Tara.

“Hey, what’s up?” she asks you.

“I…” You swallow down the lump in your throat. “Spencer’s… we’re having a bad day. If you’re not busy, can I talk to you about it?”

“Of course,” is her gentle reply, and you pull yourself to your feet, moving to the farthest point away from the bedroom in the apartment so Spencer won’t overhear.

“He got angry when you told him you got rid of everything?” she guesses when you reach that part.

“Yeah. He told me that he doesn’t like it when I move his things. I already knew that; that’s why everything else is where he left it. I think he was mostly just caught off guard that I knew all his hiding places.”

“If he’s having a trauma response to seeing JJ, he’s not going to be thinking clearly, either,” Tara points out. “I wasn’t there, so I could be wrong, but from what you’ve said, it sounds like she was some sort of trigger for him.”

“That’s more than a fair assessment. It’s just… confusing,” you say. “He wasn’t like this with her when he first got home from prison. He actually spent a lot of time at JJ’s house before his relapse. He’d go over and hold Michael when he couldn’t sleep. Why is seeing his best friend suddenly such a bad thing?”

“I don’t know, but it doesn’t have to make sense to us. It only has to make sense to the traumatized part of the brain,” she explains. “He may not even know why himself.”

“Hmm.” You ponder it for a moment. “I think I’d find that interesting if I wasn’t living it.”

Tara laughs out loud at that. “Yeah, I’ve found that to be rather commonplace sentiment in the field of psychology.”

You take a deep breath and let it out slowly, feeling calmer. “Thanks for listening,” you say. “I feel better now.”

“Anytime, (Y/N).”

You exchange goodbyes, making plans to catch up properly over lunch next week. You hang up, then tiptoe back to the bedroom door. It’s quiet now; Spencer seems to have stopped crying. You knock softly. “Honey? Can I come in?”

When he doesn’t respond, you try the door handle. It’s unlocked, which is a good sign—he’s upset, but not upset enough to completely shut you out. You open the door just enough to look in.

Spencer’s on the bed as expected, huddled under his weighted blanket. His back is to the door and you see his shoulders shuddering in the little breaths that follow him crying. In your experience, he usually seeks out comfort before this stage, often having the breakdown itself in your arms or stumbling into them halfway through. This is a bit of uncharted territory. You know that after outbursts of negative emotions, he tends to need reassurance and touch from someone to help him decompress and feel better. You just don’t know if that’s going to hold true for this kind of reaction. A trauma response, Tara called it. You hope it will, because you don’t know what else to do.

“I’m going to come in now,” you tell him before taking a step inside. You leave the door open behind you so he won’t feel trapped, then slowly approach him, looking out for signs that he doesn’t want you near—tensing muscles, slight rocking, shaking his head—but he stays still.

Once you sit down on the edge of the bed you can see his face. His eyes are puffy and his cheeks are red and raw from wiping away tears. A few are still slipping out, sliding sideways down his face and dropping onto the wet patch on his pillowcase as he stares blankly at the wall across the room.

Hesitantly, you reach out and touch his arm as lightly as you can. He takes in a deep breath, but does nothing to suggest that he wants you to remove it. After a few moments to ensure that he’s okay with touch, you start running your hand up and down his back. He whimpers a little in response, closing his eyes and titling back into your touch.

“Are you okay?” you ask softly.

You don’t get a straightforward answer. He chews on his bottom lip for a bit before speaking in a scratchy voice. “Can you…?” he mumbles, lifting his head up slightly from the pillow, then dropping it back down. You don’t know what he’s asking for until you see some of his fingers poking out from under the blanket and the stroking motion they’re making.

You maneuver across the mattress to sit against the headboard, jostling him as little as you can, and he shifts to place his head in your lap. When you start carding your fingers through his hair, his eyes flutter closed and he lets out a little sigh.

“What’s going on?” you ask once the tension has faded and his body has settled fully into the mattress. He just shrugs and you press your lips together to hold back a sigh. You’re familiar with him going nonverbal and you know that he can’t help it, but it’s discouraging. One of the main things he’s been working on is being more open about his emotions. It’s been a welcome change to not have to pry things out of him. But he seems to have gone right back to old habits tonight and it’s… well, it’s disappointing.

The silence carries on for a long time as you continue to run your hands through his hair. He’s so still and relaxed that you think he may have fallen asleep until he takes in a deep, shuddering breath and clears his throat. “I… I want to go back,” he whispers.

“Back whe--” you start, then your heart drops as you realize what he means. “Oh.”

Your hands fall to your lap as he sits up and clambers out of bed, muttering, “gonna get changed.” He shuts the bathroom door behind him—for whatever reason, he’s not always comfortable with you seeing him changing or in the shower anymore—and you sit still for a few moments, processing what he just said. After over a month of listening to him express his desire to come home—begging you, even, in the beginning—you were unprepared to hear the opposite.

You shake your head slightly to try and clear it, then follow his lead, leaving the bed and changing out of your fancy clothes, trying not to think about how much you had been looking forward to wearing them to the restaurant.

Spencer remains quiet for the drive back to his treatment center, staring out the passenger side window, legs pulled into his chest. He mumbles a quick “bye” to you when you check him back in—no hug or kiss on the cheek like you’ve grown accustomed to. Instead he turns right back to the nurse and staff member running the process and asks, “Is Matt working tonight? I need to talk to him.”

At least he wants to talk to someone, you tell yourself as you leave, trying to soothe the sting caused by the fact that the someone isn’t you.

---

The next time you see him is six days later, on Friday evening. You’ve only talked once since Saturday, over the phone on Wednesday night, and it wasn’t a long call. He was upset about the horse therapy appointment being canceled that afternoon because of the weather—it had rained hard all day—and didn’t say much else. He ended the call before the ten minute mark, saying that he was tired and wanted to go lie down.

He also didn’t request a visit for the weekend—he either didn’t think his treatment team would approve it or he just didn’t want one. So you’re visiting him at the center today. You’ve brought dinner with you—you cooked one of his favorites yourself—but before you eat, you’re having an appointment with him and his therapist.

Spencer glances up only briefly when you enter the office, quickly looking back down. One of his knees is bouncing.

You sit down on the other side of the couch, looking between him and Lara in the chair across from you. “So, um, what’s going on?” you ask.

Spencer looks to Lara and she gives him an encouraging nod. He takes in a deep breath before speaking. “I… I wanted to talk to you about what ha—happened last week,” he says quietly, keeping his gaze on his lap.

You don’t know why exactly he wants to do it here, with his therapist, but wanting to talk about it at all is a good sign.. “Okay. I’m listening.”

“Right, um. Seeing… seeing JJ, it--” he stops abruptly, and his hands tremble slightly as he runs them down his thighs. “Sorry, doing… doing this is making me really anxious.”

“Take your time,” Lara says and you nod in agreement.

“Okay.” He runs his hands through his hair a few times before continuing. “Se—seeing her brought up emotions and, and memories I wasn’t ready to, um, confront. It… it really tri—triggered me.”

“Yeah, I could tell,” you say quietly.

Spencer grimaces at the words. He lifts his hand, puts it back down, then lifts it again and rubs at one of his eyes. “I…” he starts, then fixes his gaze on the floor and goes silent.

“(Y/N).” You tear your eyes from him and look at Lara. “Is there anything you’d like to say to Spencer about Saturday? Maybe what it was like for you?”

“Oh. Um.” You chew on your bottom lip for a moment. You’ve worried about how what you say could effect him since his relapse—one of your biggest fears is saying something that would drive him to use. But it’s stressful to keep up with, and with his therapist is probably the best place to start ridding yourself of your new habit of… well, of walking on eggshells around him.

“I think it would be good for him to know,” Lara says.

“Alright.” You lace your fingers together in your lap. “I guess it was just… startling to me. JJ’s your best friend and you’ve never acted that way to her. Or anyone, really, other than your father.”

Spencer stays silent, but flinches at the mention of his dad.

“Do you have anything to say to that?” Lara prompts. He shakes his head, so she looks back to you. “How did seeing Spencer like that make you feel?”

You take in a deep breath and let it out slowly; you’re a little scared to say, not wanting to make him feel worse. “It was… distressing. Especially when he got mad at me for getting rid of his Dilaudid. I know he doesn’t like having his things touched without permission but I don’t think it was reasonable to expect that I wouldn’t have done that.”

Lara nods. “That makes sense. But our feelings aren’t always logical.”

“Yeah, I understand. I guess I just wish he would have told me what was wrong instead of being silent--”

Spencer finally speaks up then, in protest. “I couldn’t help it!”

“I—I know that,” you argue back. “I just—I’m just telling you how I felt.”

He looks away, folding his arms and sinking further into the couch.

“Spencer,” Lara says gently. “You wanted to know how (Y/N) felt, remember? And we talked about how you were probably going to hear things you wouldn’t like.”

You blink, taken aback that this was his idea. And with that comes the realization of just how long it’s been since he’s asked how you’re feeling. Thinking back, you realize that the last time you had a conversation that wasn’t only focused on his feelings and well-being was the day you found him asleep and tied to his mother. This… it’s Spencer before prison.

You’re drawn out of your thoughts by him sighing and muttering, “Yeah, I remember.”

“Alright. Anything else?” Lara asks you.

There’s a lot else, you’re discovering, but you’re not sure you can unpack it all right now. “Maybe…” you say. “Maybe he could just tell me what I can do to help when he’s… triggered?”

“I don’t know,” he says dully, and when he catches the small frown on your face, insists, “I don’t.”

“Yet,” Lara adds.

He sighs again. “Yet,” he repeats.

“I know it’s frustrating,” she says. “Your solution to these kinds of feelings before was denial or using. A solution, not just a problem,” she emphasizes. “I want you both to try and think of it like that, and get comfortable with the fact that it’s going to take awhile to overcome those habits.”

A solution, not a problem. It’s… weird to think of his addiction that way, but you can try, so you give her a nod.

“Yeah, yeah,” Spencer mumbles. But behind the defensive body language, he just seems tired.

He seems to relax a little when the meeting wraps up and it’s only the two of you in one of the rooms used for visits. He remains quiet, but when you place the plate of food you dish him across the table from yours, he slides it back and sits in the chair beside you. “Sorry,” he whispers as soon as you take a bite of food.

“For what?” you ask once you’ve swallowed.

“For yelling at you on Saturday,” he says quietly. “I was upset but I shouldn’t have yelled.”

His leg is bouncing under the table; you put your hand on his knee to still it. “Apology accepted,” you say softly.

He shakes his head slightly. “You don’t have to. I was awful to you on Saturday.”

You frown at his skewed interpretation of events. “Spencer, you really weren’t. You yelled at me, yes, but other than that, you were fine.” And you’ve said much worse when you’ve been high.

“I ruined dinner. And don’t say it’s not a big deal,” he adds before you can speak. “You mentioned it every time we spoke in the week leading up to it. You were really excited about it, and I ruined it.”

Spencer’s read you like a book—that was exactly what you were going to say. “Yeah, I was really looking forward to it,” you admit. “And it sucked to have to cancel the reservations. But there will be other dinners, and it’s not like you did it on purpose.”

“But what if I did?” His voice is so quiet that you wouldn’t have heard him if he wasn’t right next to you.

“What do you mean?”

“I just mean…” he rocks slightly in his seat, which you immediately recognize as one of his self-soothing behaviors. You move your hand from his knee to his hair, lightly running your fingers through the curls covering the nape of his neck to try and help. His head tilts forward a little at your touch and after a brief silence, he continues. “I just mean that self-sabotage wouldn’t exactly be something new for me.”

“Oh.” You take your time considering it; he won’t believe you if you give in to your knee-jerk reaction to protest the negative feelings he harbors towards himself. But he grows agitated at your silence, rocking a bit harder and rubbing at his eye. You tug his hair lightly without really thinking about it in response.

“I’m just thinking,” you assure. “You deserve an honest, thought-out answer.”

After taking a deep breath, he nods. “Okay. I understand. Maybe you could just, uh… to help c--comfort…” He swallows and his voice drops back to a whisper. “Could you do that again?”

“Do what?”

“Um, pull… pull my hair. You did that a few moments ago. Please?”

You almost want to tease him—a year ago, you would have. But he’s been so timid and unsure when asking for any intimate touch other than cuddling since he got back from prison. You don’t want to discourage him from asking any more than he seems to be discouraging himself.

“Of course, baby,” you answer softly, and do just that. He closes his eyes and drops his head onto your shoulder. “As far as the self-sabotaging goes, you’re… not good at lying to me,” you muse. “And after six years with you, I feel like I’m pretty familiar with all the ways Spencer Reid self-sabotages. This never even crossed my mind until you brought it up, so I don’t see that as being what happened.”

You can’t tell if he believes you. A neutral “okay” is all you get from him, but at least he’s not outright disagreeing.

You gently pull his hair a few more times. “You should eat before it gets cold and we have to heat it up again.”

He takes the suggestion, picking his fork up, but you’ve never seen him less enthused about eating one of his favorite foods. He’s only cleared half of his plate when you’re done with all of yours.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

You can’t help but sigh at the habitual response, and consider your next words carefully. “Spencer, I don’t mean to be pushy, but you told me you were working on not dismissing people’s concern for you when they express it.”

“I am,” he mutters, but doesn’t say anything else, just continues to push his food around his plate aimlessly.

“Well, is something wrong with the food?” you ask. “Did I get the texture wrong, or--”

“No, no,” he interrupts, shaking his head. “It’s not the food. The food’s great. It’s… it’s me that’s the problem.”

Your eyebrows come together. “I don’t understand.”

“I…” He starts to blush. “I’m not eating it all because I think I need to lose some weight.”

“Don’t you dare,” you say immediately without thinking. He makes a startled noise at the same time you clap your hand over your mouth. You definitely don’t want him to lose weight, you just hadn’t meant for it to come out like that.

On the day he came home and agreed to treatment, you’d seen just how underweight he’d become as you helped him unbutton his shirt. The stark outline of his ribs against his skin had been scary, and you had no desire to see that again. It was a relief when he started to gain back what he’d lost in prison and afterwards. And you were happy to see him continue to put on even more than that.

You clear your throat. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to say it like that. You were just so skinny when you got here. You look good like this.”

“I’ve never weighed this much before,” he says, and the distress in his tone makes you think that this is a fact that has been bothering him for a while. “Some of my clothes are getting too tight.”

“We can buy you new clothes.”

“But we don’t know how much longer the insurance will cover my stay here. Residential treatment is expensive. We don’t need to be spending extra money on clothes when I could just lose the weight instead and not need them.”

“Hey.” You put your hand on his cheek. “I don’t want you to worry about money. The insurance is covering it for now. If they stop, that’s a problem to deal with when we get there. Just focus on getting better.”

He looks away from you, down to his lap. “I should still lose some weight,” he says eventually.

“Have you medical staff told you that?” you inquire, raising an eyebrow.

“No,” he admits with a sigh.

“Then you’re not allowed to worry about it,” you say firmly. “Finish your dinner.”

Spencer hesitates, but picks his fork back up. The corners of his mouth turn up just slightly when he starts eating again, telling you that despite his fretting, he’s happy not to stop himself from eating as much as he wants.

He seems to be in a much better mood at the end of the evening than he was when you arrived, though a bit more subdued and quieter than normal. He also appears to be very tired. It’s only 7:30 but he keeps yawning. He denies dozing off with his head on your shoulder while you were talking after dinner, but you’re sure he did.

During your parting hug, he nestles his face into your neck just like he always does when you’re sleeping in bed together. “Try and get some good sleep tonight,” you encourage, smoothing your hands down his back. “And Spencer?”

He pulls back to look at you and you settle your hands lightly on his waist. “I meant it, you know.” You squeeze slightly. “When I said you look good like this.”

It takes him a few moments to catch onto what you’re implying; when he does, his eyebrows shoot up and his breath catches. “Oh. O—okay. I’ll, um…” he glances down shyly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“You better.” You look over your shoulder as you leave, and the small smile he’s wearing prompts one of your own.

--------------- 

tell me what you thought here!

i'd like to put it out there that i don’t hate jj and i really hope it didn’t come across like that. i hadn’t even planned that scene; it just wrote itself. i promise it’ll be resolved before the end of this fic.

another shoutout to the book The Body Keeps the Score for helping immensely with the planning and writing of this. i literally have pages of notes from it. 

you can also find irl pictures of spencer’s therapy horse here.

all we can do taglist: @thatsonezesty13 , @jhillio , @elitereid

general taglist: @calm-and-doctor

[ahkaahshi]

anything for you [miya atsumu x reader]

pairing: miya atsumu x fem reader

genre: fluff

warning(s): n/a

word count: 1.5k

overview: your boyfriend does everything he can to make your special day as great as possible

notes: a commission for @tsumue​! happy birthday lia ❤️ I hope you have a wonderful day and that this helps brighten it just a bit! sending you lots of love!

The sound of the front door to the apartment swinging shut awakens you from your deep, peaceful slumber. Rubbing your eyes to bring your surroundings into focus as you sit up with a yawn, you glance over at the alarm clock on your bedside table. You’ve woken up a bit later than usual, you find—much to your satisfaction, since you’d needed the rest after a long and tiresome week—but it’s the sharp, blue numbers displayed above the time that draw your attention. The date is a special one that makes your heart leap with excitement and brings a smile onto your lips.

With a newfound energy, you slide out of bed so you can march over to the bedroom door. Shuffling down the hallway towards the kitchen brings your significant other into view and widens the grin on your face. “Whatcha doin’, ‘Tsumu?” you inquire in a sing-song voice, making your way over to where he’s standing in front of the counter, lifting small boxes out of a plastic bag.

He jumps at the sound of your voice and whirls around to face you, caramel colored eyes wide with shock. “H-Honey! Thought you were still sleepin’!” With far less subtlety than he probably intended, he throws a dishtowel over whatever it is he was unpacking before asking, “I just got back from practice ‘nd trainin’, so, uh… wanna do me a favor ‘nd close yer eyes real quick?”

His clearly frazzled state elicits a small giggle from you, and you decide to play along by shutting your eyes and waiting patiently as you listen to his footsteps travel around your shared home. Soon enough, you feel something come to rest atop your head that feels like a headband, and a small object being placed into the palm of your hand.

When Atsumu tells you to open your eyes, you see him standing in front of you, a fluffy, pink party hat on his head and a small party popper in his hand. Pointing it away from you, he pulls on the string to unleash a wave of confetti and streamers with a loud pop, and you do the same with the one you realize he’s given you in the spirit of things.

“Happy birthday, (f/n)!” he cheers, dumping a clump of confetti over your head and pulling you into a tight hug. His lips meet with yours as he pulls away so he can give you a few, affectionate kisses. “Love ya, baby.”

Your heart flutters in your chest at the tenderness behind his actions, and your fingers tangle themselves in his golden head of hair so you can bring him closer to you to reward him with a few more pecks. “I love you too,” is your gentle response given with a grin that spreads across his own lips as well, “Thanks, babe.”

“Please, hold yer ‘thank yous’ til the end,” he notes with a snicker, “Or else you’ll be givin’ a lot of ‘em today.” As he brushes a few pieces of brightly colored tissue paper off his Team Japan sweater, he makes his way back into the kitchen. “Gimme a sec, ‘kay?”

While he messes around with what he’s brought home, you wander over to a mirror in the entryway to check what’s on your head. To your amusement, he’d placed a headband on you that reads, in silver letters extending atop your head, “It’s my birthday!”

Once he’s finished with his task, he calls you back into the living room where you’re greeted with a plate of your favorite dessert. Plunged into it are two, burning candles that read out your age, and he gestures for you to join him so he can serenade you with what is always an off-tune rendition of Happy Birthday. He tries, and that’s what matters, which is why you pull him into a tight hug before the two of you dig into your sweet meal.

“Hey,” he mentions after you’ve both scarfed down your breakfast treats, “Why don’tcha go ‘nd get the shower runnin’? I’ll be there in a minute.”

You furrow your eyebrows at him and tease, “You’re the stinky one between us, ‘Tsumu.”

“Which is why I’m comin’ in with ya!” he groans, “Now, go on. I’ll clean this up.”

Rather than continuing your banter with him, as you normally would, you decide to go along with his plans and head into the bedroom. His hand planting itself firmly on your butt before you walk away doesn’t surprise you, and you simply chuckle as you smack it away playfully. It’s not long after you’ve stripped off and gotten into the shower to freshen up that he comes to join you and snatches the soapy loofah out of your hands so he can work on lathering you up instead. And when the two of you have finished enjoying each other’s company beneath the warm water, you find another surprise waiting for you on top of a set of comfy pajamas he’s laid out over the bed for you.

With wide, (e/c) eyes, you reach for the bracelet resting atop one of your—his­—favorite sweaters, and Atsumu carefully fastens it around your wrist for you. Gently, he kisses the back of your hand while you admire the way the dainty jewelry looks against your skin. “Atsumu…” you murmur, still in awe of how beautiful it is, “I love this so much.” It’s hard not to thank him for it, but you know he’ll tease you if you do, so you settle for showing your appreciation by showering him with kisses.

“Looks perfect on ya,” he comments when your lips separate, “’nd I bet it’ll go great with my sweater.”

A giggle bubbles in your throat as you take a moment longer to fawn over your newest accessory before getting dressed. In the brief silences that linger in the room during the pauses in your conversation, you swear you hear the television on in the living room. Noticing your gaze drift towards the door brings Atsumu to attention, and he rushes out of the bedroom to investigate. However, when you hear the sound of an argument echoing through the door—instigated by your boyfriend’s clear, “Oi! What the hell are ya doin’? Turn it down!”—you’ve already formed your suspicions, which are confirmed when you wander outside.

Standing in the center of the room, beneath an array of multicolored streamers and a huge HAPPY BIRTHDAY! sign is none other than Osamu—a party hat perched atop his head of dark hair and a plate of what you’d had for breakfast in one of his hands. When he sees you, he puts the dessert down for a moment to place a noisemaker in his mouth and give it a blow as he shoots off another party popper.

“’Tsumu offered you some food in exchange for doing this, huh?” you mention after the two of you break away from a hug and he’s offered you his warm, birthday wishes.

He nods and chuckles before saying, “But, even if he hadn’t, I woulda stopped by anyway. Giving you a pat on the shoulder, he offers, “Next time ya come over to the restaurant, yer meal’s on me if ya wear that headband.”

“What about mine?” Atsumu butts in.

“It ain’t your birthday, ‘Tsumu,” is his quick retort, “Anyway, I’ll be leavin’ you two lovebirds alone now ‘nd gettin’ back to work. Hope ya have a nice day, (f/n).”

With that said, he grabs a container from your kitchen to take his unfinished dessert in before heading out again, only stopping to take a few photos of you and Atsumu together beneath the sign he’s put up when his twin nags him about it. Once he’s gone, your boyfriend makes a quick trip to the bedroom to grab, you soon find, layers of blankets that he tosses onto the floor.

“Blanket fort?” he suggests, a bright smile lighting up his handsome features.

Enthusiastically, you accept by helping him rearrange your furniture to construct a small hideaway beneath layers of blankets. After you’ve ensured that it won’t collapse in on you, the two of you fill it with pillows before grabbing a laptop to watch movies on and climbing inside. Atsumu reaches out towards you, welcoming you into his arms so he can pull your body flush against his and ensconce yourselves beneath a blanket.

Giving you a squeeze and pressing his lips to the crown of your head, he murmurs, “Wanna just stay like this for the whole day?”

You hum with approval as you nestle your head in the crook of his neck and pepper his exposed skin with tender pecks. “I would love to.” A short silence befalls the two of you, during which he takes to tracing little circles along the small of your back with his fingers. “‘Tsumu?”

“What’s up?”

“I know the day’s not over yet but thank you—for all of this. I really appreciate it.”

Directing your gaze upwards at him brings your eyes to his, and the loving look he regards you with fills your body with warmth. The kiss he plants on your lips is tender and soft, and he seals his gentle expression of affection with the words, “Anything for you, sweetheart.”

fun fact that didn’t make it into the story: most of the guys from the team bought you a gift, and omi’s was a pair of team japan socks since he got worried about you when you said your feet were prone to getting cold.

masterlist ⭐︎ treat me to a coffee!

taglists (see pinned post on my blog for form)

general: @dinablossom, @newfriendjen, @devlovesiwa-channn, @ohbyunhunn, @aftcrlust, @mister-future, @kyleclxin, @kac-chowsballs, @osamusmiya, @nit-sir-hc, @arixtsukki, @shinsurou, @ichorizaki, @dominikmagnus, @yamagucji, @krynnza, @tendo-sxtori​

atsumu: @pretty-setters, @misora-msby​, @why-aminot-dead, @lotsoffandomrecs, @tsumue, @heyhinata

[captain-josslett]

Broken Melody - Part Twenty One

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen, Part Fourteen, Part Fifteen, Part Sixteen, Part Seventeen, Part Eighteen, Part Nineteen, Part Twenty...

Summary: Grammy Award winning Emma Danvers is the first to say she has a pretty good life. But what happens when it implodes around her and it looks like things will never be the same again?

Words: 6k+

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, stuff... I’m so tried my brain can’t function.

Pairings: Emma Danvers x Lena Luthor

This Part: Lena has a question she wants to ask Emma.

Here you go, I hope you enjoy! My eyes are closing as I’m trying to write this. Such fun! Please forgive the exhaustion that is showing in this part.

Thank you for reading and let me know if you wanna be tagged or any general feedback will be greatly appreciated. Please! I like knowing your thoughts.

Taglist: @finleyfray​​​, @life-is-hella-unfair​​, @natasha-danvers​​, @supergirl-writingz​​, @camslightstories​​, @thinking1bee​​, @aznblossom​​,

Lena tries to concentrate as she goes through the mountain of paperwork that has built up over the past week and a bit since the attack. Frustration flows through her when the pile never seems to decrease in size.

When the CEO finds herself reading the same line over and over Lena sighs heavily and leans back in her office chair. She lifts the tip of her thumb to her mouth and bites. Her anxiety swirling and simmering under the surface. Taking another deep breath Lena looks down at her phone. She quickly grabs it, turning her chair towards the window and opens a playlist full of Emma’s voice and video messages as well as the songs she sent. Even if it was to ask her opinion on which lyrics sound better or a simple “Good Morning love.”

The raven haired beauty scrolls through the hundreds of files before coming across one of her favourites. It was also in video form which Lena doesn’t know if it's a good thing or not. To actually see Emma talk and sing instead of just hearing her girlfriend.

“Hi Lee!” Emma’s beaming face fills the screen. Her wavy blonde hair is down and she’s wearing Lena’s National City University sweatshirt she had sneakily packed into her bag and taken on the tour.

Immediately tears start to creep into Lena’s eyes when she hears Emma’s voice. Realising how much she misses her love’s laugh, the changes of tone as the blonde would talk about the different things that have happened to her during the day. The tender way Emma would softly whisper her name as she was falling asleep.

“I hope your day is going great! Well, I’m back in the studio-” Emma motions around her to the dimly lit recording studio and the microphone equipment next to her. “-and I was thinking about you, I mean, when am I not thinking about you?!” Emma chuckles and Lena can’t help but lift the corner of her mouth up in a small smile as a lone tear rolls down her cheek. “Anyway, this song came to my mind and I immediately needed to record it for you.”

Emma lifts her guitar up onto her lap and starts strumming. Her hazel green eyes connect with the camera, as if she’s looking straight at Lena.

You with the sad eyes Don't be discouraged, oh I realise It's hard to take courage In a world full of people You can lose sight of it all The darkness inside you Can make you feel so small

Like the previous times before Lena is completely floored when she watches Emma sing. The way in which the words touch Lena and making her heart melt and ache all at once. How even though her girlfriend is singing to a camera she somehow connects with Lena.

But I see your true colours Shining through I see your true colours And that's why I love you So don't be afraid to let them show Your true colours True colours True colours are beautiful Like a rainbow

“Wow.”

Lena jumps and quickly locks her phone, halting the video and Emma’s voice. The CEO spins around to see an apologetic Sam standing behind her desk.

“Sorry!” Sam holds her hands up and Lena wipes her face. Trying to hide the emotions that had surfaced.

“It’s okay.” Lena tries to tidy her desk a bit before focusing back on her friend. “Everything okay?”

“Yea, it’s gone six.”

Lena’s eyes widen as she glances down at the clock on her desk.

‘Shit.’ The raven haired beauty thinks in dismay and presses her lips together until they disappear.

“You alright?” Sam asks with a frown.

“I didn’t get enough done today.” Lena uncharacteristically slumps forward and holds her head in her hands.

“Hey-” Sam quickly comes around and sits on the desk, placing a comforting hand on her friend’s shoulder. “You are ahead of what you need to do, but if things get too much we can always hire more assistants. You aren’t in this alone.”

Lena swallows heavily and nods. Sam may say she’s ahead but the raven haired beauties expectations are set too high from years of trying to please her family.

“So, how about we pick up some food and go see that gorgeous girlfriend of yours?”

Sam’s comment makes Lena gradually sit up and glare at the brunette.

“Hands off Arias.” Lena growls and Sam throws her head back laughing.

“Wrong Danvers my dear.” Sam gently pats Lena’s cheek before getting up and grabbing her stuff.

Lena smiles and shakes her head. Quickly wiping the tears from her face before shutting everything down on her desk. She takes one more look at the piles of work.

Before Kara Danvers had come into her life she would have stayed until the early hours of the morning to complete her tasks. Sometimes not even leaving the office at all. But with Kara everything changed. Her obsessive, workaholic routines had been disrupted with lunches, coffee meet ups, movie and games nights. Lena found herself developing more and more friendships and she liked it.

Then when Emma Danvers swung into Lena’s life… Well there was no hope of Lena ever working late into the night again.

Because no matter where Emma was she would ask when the best time was for her to call Lena and for some strange reason Lena had given her a time that cut her working hours a lot shorter. This also meant that Lena wasn’t elbow deep in work that would distract her from spending time with her crush. Over time this became her new normal and even when Emma couldn’t chat due to the time difference (and Lena refused to allow Emma to sacrifice her sleep for her) Lena would find herself finishing work at a reasonable hour.

Finally Lena turns away from the work and stands, rolling her chair under the desk and smoothing out her grey dress.

The pair walk out of LCorp in comfortable silence towards Sam’s car, nodding at employees as they went.

As Lena settles into the passenger seat she notices her brunette friend overly tapping the steering wheel.

“Sam? Is there something wrong?”

“Erm, could we- I mean, if it’s okay. Could we listen to Emma sing?”

Lena hesitates for a moment. Wanting to keep the songs her girlfriend has sent her private and only for herself.

But the raven haired beauty reaches into her bag and pulls out her phone. Connecting it to Sam’s car and choosing a song for the pair to listen to.

The car is filled with the gentle sound of a piano and soon Emma starts singing.

It's a little bit funny, this feeling inside I'm not one of those who can easily hide I don't have much money, but boy if I did I'd buy a big house where we both could live

The corner of Lena’s lips pull up slightly as she listens to her girlfriend. Images flash through her mind of a house the pair would buy and make a home. Where everything that has happened over the past few weeks would be a distance memory. They would both be happy, healthy and even more in love.

So excuse me forgetting, but these things I do See I've forgotten if they're green or they're blue Anyway the thing is what I really mean Yours are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen

Lena can’t help but feel a slight blush build up in her cheeks. Remembering the way Emma would stare into her eyes as they lay on the bed, saying she was taking in every detail of colour and noticing the flecks of blue in them.

Lena also notices how Sam glances over at her every so often and chooses to ignore her friend. Instead turning her head to gaze out of the window and keeps listening to her girlfriend’s declaration of love.

And you can tell everybody this is your song It may be quite simple, but now that it's done I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind that I put down in words How wonderful life is now you're in the world

The raven haired beauty rests her head against the side of the car door. She takes a big intake of breath and lets it out gradually.

“Lena?” She hears Sam ask softly.

“Yea?”

“You okay?”

Lena pauses as she chooses her answer. Knowing if she lies Sam will pick up on it.

“No, but I will be.” Lena slowly lifts her head up and gives Sam a small smile. The song ends and Lena chooses another more upbeat one that has Sam tapping along on the steering wheel.

An idea starts forming and Lena bites the inside of her lip. “So, did Lucy mention where Emma will be staying after she leaves the DEO?”

“No. I know she’s going to talk to Emma about it soon. Why?”

“Do- do you think Emma would move in with me?” Lena asks quietly, purposefully not looking at Sam as she says it.

“Most definitely!” Sam makes Lena jump with her loud, enthusiastic response. “I mean, she’s totally in love with you and it’s not like your relationship is brand new.” Sam beams at her friend. “Also you guys totally failed in the lesbian stereotype! You should have moved in together on the second date right?”

Lena chuckles and shakes her head. Secretly she would have loved to have moved in with Emma straight away, they were practically living at each other’s apartments anyway, even before their relationship developed further.

“Okay, I’m going to ask her. Today.” Lena says mostly to herself and nods slowly.

“Yes!” Sam can’t help but smile brightly at her friend and a surge of happiness fills the brunette. Finally some good news among the chaos of the past few weeks.

The raven haired beauty turns to smile nervously at Sam. “She has to say yes first.”

Sam scoffs. “Are you kidding me right now? Really?” Sam can’t help but raise her eyebrows. “Lee if you asked Emma to marry you, right now, I have no doubt in my mind she would.”

At that Lena’s smile lights up her whole face as she imagines Emma in a bridal gown. Walking towards her with a radiant smile on her face.

‘Lena Danvers.’ The raven haired beauty tests the name in her mind and settles back into her seat. Going over what the venue would look like, whether Emma would want a big wedding or something more intimate.

But soon the brunette starts feeling frustrated as the car crawls along the road. “Urgh this traffic!”

“Must be some roadworks happening.”

“Yea, or there's a gathering outside Em’s apartment again.”

“Oh?”

“Yea, more and more fans have been showing up to pay their respects and show their support.” Sam says casually as she places her elbow on the car window and rests her head against her hand. “She’s gained an even bigger following than before. Lucy’s been working non stop to try and contain the true story. Apparently she’s gonna ask Emma to stage some photos and create a timeline.” Sam quickly glances over at her friend as she provides the information Lucy had discussed with her. A deep frown is etched on Lena's face and her mouth opens to speak, but Sam stops her before she can ask any questions. “Best to talk to Lucy about it.”

Lena nods and turns back to stare out of the window. Her mind races with what Lucy could have planned. Guessing that Emma would need to be kept out of the public eye for a while due to the injuries she had received.

‘Well she shouldn’t be breathing at all.’ Lena’s mind whispers and she immediately feels sick. But the feeling soon fades as she focuses on Emma’s voice.

The car slowly makes progress down the street when it comes to a halt outside a florist.

“Do you think this traffic will clear in the next few minutes?” Lena asks quickly.

“No, doesn’t look like it.” Sam whines frustratedly, slamming her head back on the head rest.

“I’m getting some flowers.” Suddenly Lena grabs her phone, unbuckles and jumps out of the car before Sam can react or say anything.

Lena ignores the looks people give her as she strides confidently across the road towards the small florist. She marvels at the colours of the flowers and heads inside.

“Welcome! Welcome!” A kind elderly couple greet her behind the counter.

“How may I help you today dear?” The gentleman asks her. Lena immediately notices recognition in his eyes but he doesn’t say anything more. Which she is grateful for.

“I would like to purchase a bouquet for my girlfriend please.”

“Ah! Any special occasion?” The elderly woman asks kindly as she starts gathering some flowers to show the CEO.

“Er- no, not particularly. She’s in hospital at the moment and I wanted to cheer her up, show her my love?” Lena cringes slightly at how she doesn’t know what to say. Not wanting to give away Emma’s state.

“Ah of course. Well our prices range differently, depending on what you choose. But, as it’s you and these are for our favourite customer, we are going to give them to you for free.” The elderly gentleman smiles kindly at her.

Lena blinks a few times and her eyebrows rise.

“Thank you sir, but I insist on paying.”

“Nonsense! Emma has been a valuable customer over the years and we were both utterly devastated by the horrific attack that befalled her.”

“Truly tragic.” His wife nods along before staring Lena in the eyes. “But is she getting better?”

“Slowly but surely.” Lena tries to reassure them.

“Good, that’s good.” The elderly gentleman nods. “Now my dear, as I am sure you are aware flowers have different meanings. What would you like the bouquet to represent.”

Lena thinks for a moment. “My love for her.” She simply says.

The couple smile at her. “Right!” The lady claps her hands and starts gathering flowers together, quickly explaining what each one means and for Lena’s approval.

Lena reaches into her bag for her card, still wanting to pay for the beautiful bouquet.

“No.” The gentleman holds out a hand and smiles at Lena’s confused expression. “Please, it is the least we can do for her.”

Lena nods but sneakily reaches into her purse and places a few hundred bills in a tip jar on the counter.

“I know she isn’t with it properly but when she can if you could give Emma our love we’d really appreciate it.” The lady says kindly as she hands Lena the beautiful bouquet of flowers. “Who knows maybe the colours will help revive her.”

“I hope so and I definitely will.” Lena cradles the flowers carefully, gazing at the roses, tulips, baby breath and daisies. Hoping she can remember all the different meanings to tell her girlfriend. “Thank you again.” Lena smiles at the couple and leaves the shop. Waving at them as she opens the door and steps out into the street.

The raven haired beauty glances around for Sam’s car and sees it near the end of the street. Lena quickly makes her way down the pavement and through the traffic to get back to the car. Sam unlocks the doors and Lena gracefully slides in.

“Wow, they look lovely.” Sam stares at the bouquet.

“They do don’t they?” Lena smiles and smells the flowers.

“Can you play more of Emma’s songs please?”

“Sure.” Lena quickly links her phone back to Sam’s car and chooses a new song for them to listen to.

The pair stay in comfortable silence as they listen to Emma’s music and crawl through the busy streets of the city.

-- -- --

Finally they make it to the DEO after picking up some food for everyone. Thank goodness Lena thought to order while they were stuck in traffic. Especially as they got food for Kara too. The waiter had given Lena a questioning look when they handed the box over to her. Lena responded by tilting her head slightly and giving one of her cold CEO stares. Only when she placed the box in the boot of Sam’s car did she realise she could have just smiled at them. Sometimes old habits are hard to break.

“Here let me take the food and you hold the flowers.” Sam quickly takes a hold of the box and Lena closes the trunk. The pair quickly make their way inside.

“Good evening.” Agent Vasquez nods at them in greeting.

“Evening Agent.” Sam smiles at her. “Oh could you do me a favour?”

“Depending what it is ma’am.” Agent Vasquez places her hands behind her back, standing at ease.

Sam places the box on the floor and takes out a few bags of food. Leaving most still left in the box. “Could you please give this food to our friends in the main cell downstairs?”

Agent Vasquez tilts her head forward and squats down to pick the box up. “Of course ma’am.”

“Thank you.” Lena responds with a small smile and heads towards the elevator. The pair first go to the labs and Sam hands over Eliza, J’onn, Winn, Brainy and Nia’s order.

Soon the pair make it to Emma’s floor and the anticipation builds within Lena at the thought of seeing her girlfriend. She knocks on the door and softly opens it, knowing Emma can’t call out to give them permission to enter.

“Hi!” Lucy greets the pair as they enter and Sam responds but the raven haired beauty focuses on her girlfriend. A smile spreads across her face seeing how engrossed Emma is in her painting. Noticing the cute way she sticks the tip of her tongue out.

Lena places the flowers on the coffee table and slowly approaches the blonde beauty. The noise of her heels filling the room. But still Emma doesn’t look up. Lena gazes down at what Emma is painting. She takes a quick intake of breath at what she sees. Amazed by the detail within it.

It seems to be from Emma’s point of view, showing Alex and Kara sitting on Emma’s bed. The pair are laughing and smiling brightly up at her with their hands joined together with Emma’s. Tears are within both of their eyes and Lena can tell the sisters were sharing a special moment together.

Lena resists the urge to kiss Emma’s head and instead heads back to the sofa.

“She’s been doing that for hours.” Lucy follows Lena over to the sofas and sniffs the air, smelling the food within the bags. Her stomach loudly rumbles making the trio laugh.

They look over at the blonde whose tongue is still poking out as she paints.

“Nothing can break her focus.” Lucy laughs and sits next to Sam.

“Oh no, I’m sure there's something or, someone, that could.” Sam raises an eyebrow at Lena and a slight blush colours her cheeks, remembering how Sam had found the lovers in the morning.

“How has she been?” Lena asks as she pulls out her meal and starts eating.

“Alright, I guess.” Lucy glances sadly over at her friend.

A hint of a frown appears on Lena’s forehead. “Sam mentioned you have a plan to move forward?”

Lucy nods and dives into detail of the plans she had told Emma earlier in the day. About creating video and images to release to the media at specific times in the upcoming months. How Emma will have to stay out of the public eye.

“I was also thinking…” Lena pauses and quickly glances over at Emma, who was still completely submerged in her task. Lena turns back to Lucy who studies her closely. The CEO leans in and Lucy copies her. “About asking Emma to move in with me.” The raven haired beauty says quietly. Not wanting her girlfriend to overhear.

A wide smile breaks across Lucy’s face and she nods. “I think that will work perfectly. I noticed how worried Emma got when I mentioned she could leave here soon.”

Lena lets out a breath, relieved that Lucy agrees.

The brunette keeps smiling at the news, hoping this will help Emma’s recovery. “Oh and Winn mentioned about developing a face modifier which Emma will have to wear when she’s out in public. He’s going to discuss it with you and see what can be done.”

Immediately Lena’s eyes light up with interest and Sam smiles at her expression of wonder. Almost expecting Lena to jump up and stride from the room to find Winn in the lab.

But the trio continue chatting and eating until they hear Emma place her brush into the cup of water. Lena looks over at the blonde and beams when their eyes connect.

Lena places her empty food container on the coffee table and picks up the bouquet of flowers. She hides them behind her back when she stands and approaches her girlfriend, her nerves prickle near the surface.

‘What if Emma says no? What if she doesn’t love me?’  

Pushing her thoughts away Lena sits on the bed next to Emma and presents the flowers to the blonde. She smiles at how wide Emma’s eyes go, how she instantly reaches out to feel the softness of the rose and studies the detail of the flowers.

Instead of asking Emma then and there Lena chickens out and starts reciting the different meanings of the flowers. Only getting distracted for a moment as Emma keeps lovingly kissing her cheek, but Lena stops the blonde, determined to tell her girlfriend the meaning of every flower. Totally not because she was scared to ask her question… Nope.

‘Luthors don’t get scared.’ Lena will always try and reassure herself in times like this.

But finally the pair kiss, only to be interrupted by Lucy pretending to heave.

Lena laughs when Emma flips the other brunette off and focuses back on the blonde. Her green eyes study her love’s face.

“So, how’s your head?” Lena asks as she runs her fingers gently through Emma’s hair and watches the blonde lift her hands to sign.

“I’ve had no complaints.”

Immediately Lena lifts her head back and laughs loudly causing the others in the room to question her. The raven haired beauty repeats the joke and the other pair laugh along.

Lena feels Emma snuggle into her side and the raven haired beauty wraps an arm around her.

“We’ve brought you some food love.” Lena says gently and kisses the top of Emma’s head. “Are you hungry?”

She feels Emma nod and goes to get up to get the container but Emma becomes a koala bear and holds on to her with a vice-like grip.

“Ow, Em, not so tight!” Lena laughs out but Emma instantly lets go, trying to move away from the CEO. But she can’t due to Lena’s own hold on her. “Hey, it’s okay. I know you just love me so much.” The raven haired beauty smiles reassuringly and gently boops Emma’s nose. Making the blonde adorably scrunch her face up.

“Here you go Em.” Sam places Emma’s food on the tray table. Emma gives her a look of gratitude. “Shall I move the picture so you don’t get anything on it?”

Emma nods as she opens the lid and shoves a huge cunk into her mouth. Hesitantly wrapping an arm around her girlfriend, making sure she doesn’t squeeze her too hard this time.

Sam clears the table of the painting supplies and her eyes widen as she stares at the painting while placing it on top of a chest of drawers.

“Wow Em. This is so good.”

“Let me see!” Lucy rushes over and gapes at it. “Awww I love it!”

Emma buries her head into Lena’s shoulder, feeling embarrassed from the praise. The raven haired beauty grins and kisses Emma’s head.

A knock makes the women look over at the door and Emma peeking slightly over Lena’s shoulder to see who it is.

The door opens and J’onn enters with Eliza following behind him. “Lucy, we are ready to go down to the cells.”

Emma sits up at J’onn’s words and stares at Lucy, desperately wanting to go with her. She turns to her girlfriend and signs.

“What’s going on?”

Lena repeats the question and Lucy approaches Emma’s bed, knowing she needs to be completely honest with the blonde.

“We aren’t making any progress with who took your sisters. Whoever they are they covered their tracks well.” Lucy rubs her shoulder as she looks apologetically at the pair on the bed. “We have the go ahead from your sister's therapists that we can ask them more questions. Especially as the R.K levels are almost depleted.”

Emma sits up even straighter at this new piece of information, looking more alert then before and grabbing Lena’s hand, who squeezes it three times.

“Can I come with you?” Sam asks confidently, ready for the looks of confusion the superfriends give her. “Well, with my time as Reign, I understand what it’s like having blackouts and waking up realising something, that is out of your control, has happened.”

J’onn and Lucy share a look and the brunette nods. “Very well.” J’onn agrees and gets ready to head down to the cells.

Emma fidgets and Lucy’s eyes are drawn to her. She wants to cry at the hope etched onto Emma’s face.

“I will ask them if they are ready to see you. But please prepare yourself that they still may not be ready.” Lucy begs as if reading Emma's mind. The blonde slowly nods and her shoulder sag.

“It will be okay sweetheart.” Eliza tries to reassure her baby girl. “They are making progress, these things just take time.”

Emma nods and motions to the painting. “Can someone give this to them? Would that be okay?” Lena speaks out what Emma signs and Sam carefully picks up the painting.

The blonde smiles at her, placing her hand to her lips, moving it forward and down, thanking Sam. Almost like she’s blowing Sam a kiss.

“You’re welcome Emma.” Sam returns the smile and heads towards the door.

Emma shifts so she can look at her girlfriend. “Will you go see them?”

Lena blinks in surprise at Emma’s request. “Are you sure?”

Emma nods. “Kara needs her best friend. Plus mom can keep me company.”

Lena stares into fading bloodshot eyes for a moment. “Alright. Can I have a kiss?” The raven haired beauty smiles shyly at her girlfriend and Emma tilts her head forward, connecting their lips.

“You guys are just too much.” Lucy mutters and Sam pushes her shoulder while shaking her head at the other brunette.

The pair were adorably, but also sickeningly cute.

Lena regretfully moves away from Emma and gracefully slides off the bed. But she can’t move away as the blonde as she won’t let go of her hand.

Lena turns to her girlfriend and smiles sweetly at her, also raising an eyebrow. “Em-ma.”

Slowly Emma lets go of Lena's hand and the raven haired beauty follows the others out of the room. She turns back at the doorway. Emma lifts her hand and does a sad little wave which Lena copies.

“Come on lovebird.” Sam gently grabs Lena’s arm and pulls her away from the door. When they near the elevator Sam wraps an arm around her friend and leans into her ear. “Chicken.” The brunette whispers and laughs at the look of outrage on Lena’s face.

“Hey! I-er-it just-I-” Lena stops and huffs as the superfriends turn to look at her in shock. Rarely, if ever, hearing the badass CEO stutter. The elevator doors open and the group step inside and wait while the elevator descends.

Lucy massages her shoulders and huffs, catching Winn’s attention.

“Lucy? You okay?” Winn asks in concern.

“No, my back and shoulders are killing me.” Lucy moans while flexing and stretching her back, trying to relieve the pain there.

“What did you do?” Sam asks with a frown.

“Nothing.” Lucy says bewildered but pauses as she thinks through her day. “Well, I did jump onto Emma to stop her going down to the cells. Maybe I just pulled something.”

Sam's face morphs into one of deep thought as she contemplates Lucy’s words. Her eyes find Lena’s who tilts her head as she tries to figure out what Sam is thinking.

The doors open and the superfriends make their way to the cell holding Alex and Kara.

Lena can’t help but feel apprehensive and a bit guilty at the sight of Kara and Alex. She hasn’t properly spoken to the sisters since their imprisonment. Her main focus has solely been on Emma.

She hangs back as the others enter the room and make their way over to the cell. Nia and Brainy are already in front of the sisters as Brainy works through his data and Nia is sitting on the floor having had her meal with Kara and Alex.

“Guys!” Kara jumps to her feet and smiles brightly at the group. “It’s so good to see you all!” Her eyes meet each of the superfriends and widen for a moment when they connect with her best friend.

“Any news?” Alex says standing next to her sister and places her hands on her hips. Immediately morphing into Director Danvers.

“Still no leads.” J’onn says quietly and Alex clenches her jaw while Kara crosses her arms.

“We’ve swept the area and any samples we take comes up with nothing.” Winn holds up his tablet to the sisters to show them his data.

Lena can’t imagine how the pair must be feeling. Obviously as frustrated, if not more, then Lena, to know their attackers are walking free out in the world which makes Lena’s blood boil.

“Do you remember anything new?” Lucy asks and Brainy pulls up some photos of other locations. “Or do these pictures mean anything?”

Brainy holds out his tablet to show the pair. They study them intently.

“No.” Alex huffs heavily and Kara shakes her head, avoiding everyone's eyes as she wills herself to remember anything that would help. “It’s still too fuzzy.”

“One minute we were with Emma and I flew off with Alex and then next we are on the way to her apartment to-” Kara motions her hand, not wanting to finish the sentence.

“I just remember darkness and feeling cold, pain. The sound of running water and a hum.” Alex says hauntingly.

“I know how overwhelming all this can be.” Sam draws the sisters attention to her. She fiddles with the edge of Emma’s painting. Wanting desperately to say the right words. “When I would wake up after Reign took over, it was the most terrifying feeling. To have these fuzzy memories but not being able to focus on them. I just wanted you both to know you aren’t alone in this.” Sam says passionately and Kara takes it in, nodding her thanks and taking a deep breath.

Alex continues looking over the data, trying to make her brain remember something useful. Anything.

“Yes, we will figure this out. Don’t lose hope.” J’onn looks between them.

The sisters nod.

“How-” Kara pauses, biting her lip. “How is she? Emma.”

“She’s desperate to see you both.” Lena says softly, making the sisters tense simultaneously.

“Yea, I had to jump on her back to stop her coming down here earlier.” Lucy jokes lightly but subconsciously rubs her shoulder and Alex frowns at the brunette.

“She painted something for you.” Sam quickly interrupts when she sees the redhead opening her mouth to ask a question. Sam holds the painting in front of her and turns it so the sisters can see.

Immediately both their eyes mist over and Kara’s lips disappear as she tries to stop herself from crying out and Alex digs her nails into her palms.

“She knows you both aren’t ready to see her.” Lena says gently, seeing their distress. “But Emma wanted you to know how much she loves you. That nothing can or will ever change that.”

Alex shakes her head at Lena’s words. ‘How can Emma be so forgiving?’

“Because you are her sisters.” J’onn responds. He didn’t mean to hear Alex’s thoughts, at the moment they are just so loud, as if she is screaming them at him.

“We’ll think about it.” Kara says and looks at her sister who does a slight nod in agreement. Despite the many hours together they haven’t spoken about the attack. Instead they are pushing their pain away and hiding it, pretending it doesn’t exist.

“That’s all we ask.” J’onn reassures them.

“What’s the news on her voice?” Alex says while crossing her arms and Lucy steps closer to the sisters.

“Well, I had a chat with Doctor Sloan and he feels ready to operate soon. Maybe in the next month or so.” She says while looking at both Kara and Alex. Lena squints her eyes slightly at the news, trying to remember if Emma had communicated this with her.

“That’s good, right?” Kara asks desperately and lowers her arms.

“It is.” Lucy smiles. But she is holding back key information that there is a chance that the surgery won’t be successful the first time. Feeling that it could dash the little hope the sisters are holding onto. Even Alex looks a bit lighter from the news.

“Please tell Emma we love her too.” Alex responds softly and focuses on Lena. “Give her a hug from me.”

“And me.” Kara adds quickly, smiling cautiously at her best friend.

“Of course!” Lena nods while taking a nervous step closer as she fiddles with her hands. “I actually wanted your opinion on something.”

-- -- --

Emma quietly strums her guitar while her mom reads in the chair next to her. The blonde pauses to write down the notes and chords, finding it slightly frustrating she can’t sing them out. But she continues on and tries to match the pitch with what she is singing in her head.

The door opening makes Emma whip her head around. She smiles at Lena as she closes it behind her and comes over to her. Emma shuffles across the bed, allowing Lena to sit next to her and the blonde carefully places her guitar on the stand by the bed.

“Hi love.” Lena kisses Emma’s lips as her girlfriend turns back around. The raven haired beauty smiles at Eliza, who watches them over her book. “J’onn is asking if you can meet him in the lab?”

“Thank you Lena.” Eliza closes her book, stands and kisses Emma’s forehead and surprises Lena when she does the same to her.

Emma smiles at her shocked girlfriend and gently strokes her cheek. Waiting for her mom to leave the room before kissing Lena again. Before things get heated Emma pulls back and signs. “How are they?”

“Well, they send their love and promise to think about seeing you soon.” Lena watches as Emma’s eyes grow sad. “I’m sorry.”

Emma nods, lowering her head and runs her thumb over Lena’s hand.

The raven haired beauty goes to open her mouth but finds the words she wants to say get stuck in her throat. Emma immediately notices and looks up at her girlfriend. Tilting her head questioningly.

“I- erm…” Lena lets out a small laugh. “This is ridiculous. The famous Lena Luthor stumbling on her words.”

Emma smiles slightly and squeezes Lena’s hand three times.

“I love you too.” Lena leans in and presses her forehead against Emma’s. She takes a deep breath and pulls away again so she can see her girlfriend properly.

“So, I’ve been thinking and I was wondering, when you are discharged…”

Lena fidgets and momentarily looks away.

“That… Whether you would like to, I mean you can say no, no pressure, but if you would like to come and…”

Emma squeezes her girlfriend’s hand, making Lena lift her eyes and gaze at her.

“Live with me?” Lena’s voice goes higher in pitch as she asks the question. Her nerves and Irish twang coming through.

Emma’s mouth drops open and her eyes fill with tears before smiling so brightly Lena thinks it outshines the sun.

“Is that a yes?” Lena asks tenderly.

Emma responds by vigorously nodding before leaping onto Lena’s lap and kissing her. Making Lena smile happily into the kiss as she wraps her arms around her girlfriend.

(Part Twenty Two)

[our-heroes-rise]

request for class 1-a reacting to reader who likes to hug as a way to say thank you and sometimes a hello/goodbye. if that's too much then maybe just the boys! 😊

YES OMG YOU MAY THIS WAS SO CUTE!!! the way i format my response to these type of requests actually made it pretty easy for me to do all of them, considering that i had at least half an idea of what i wanted to write for each. hopefully i didn’t miss anyone important! fight crime and kick ass, baby vigilante! <3

midoriya: he’s normally flustered by any sort of physical affection. not that he isn’t used to receiving it (his mom is very affectionate) but because - well - he’s never had friends who do that sort of thing. but he appreciates your hugs! they make him feel warm and cared for. so even if his face is redder than a tomato he will always return them. but he’ll hide his face in your shoulder so no one else can see how red his cheeks are. and once he’s comfortable enough he’ll shyly ask for a hug when he’s feeling down or simply needs to feel cared for.

todoroki: shoto.exe has stopped working. his reaction the very first time he receives one of your hugs is him just awkwardly standing there with his arms sort of poised half way in the air at his sides, not sure where to put them. he really can’t remember the last time someone hugged him. “oh. . . your welcome.” he’s sort of surprised by how much he enjoyed your embrace and will inevitably end up looking forward to the next time you hug him. he gets better at it the more often you do it, learning to relax into it and wrap his arms around you, adding a small awkward pat to the back because physical affection is still something new to him. after some times has passed (like a lot of time) he’ll become comfortable enough to where he won’t outright ask for you to hug him, but he’ll make small motions to you to indicate what he wants. like a small grabby hand motion, or tugging you into his arms/side without a word.

bakugou: this one. oh boy. it most likely takes a long time for him to do anything worth receiving a hug because let’s be honest, he’s a major asshat the first semester. but when the time does come after he has helped you study for an exam you for sure thought you would bomb and end up getting a top score on, he’s stunned as fuck. “the fuck are you doing?!” “you helped me get an A!” that still doesn’t answer his question but he’s not a moron, he gets the gesture. and he’ll never admit it but your hugs are nice. so, he returns your hug with his arm slung across your back, and gives you a hearty pat on the back, sort of half assed and grunts his acknowledgment. then he pushes you away grumbling, “alright that’s enough of that shit.” he’s not big on hugs but they’re tolerable if they’re from you or kirishima.

kirishima: he’s all for it! when you hug him expect him to squeeze you back just as tightly, crushing you against his chest, even if its just his normal one arm bro-hug. if it’s been a while since you’ve seen each other he’ll pick you up off the ground to shake you in his enthusiasm or whirling you about in a circle. his good bye hugs will always be a bit longer, burying his face in your shoulder or resting his chin on top of your head. he makes it clear that your presence will be missed. eijiro is hands down the best hugger out of the boys and will always make you feel loved and warm with his embrace.

iida: tenya is very good-natured when he receives one of your hugs for the first time, returning it with a gentle squeeze and light pat. occasionally he will say that it’s a bit much, especially if you’re being overly enthusiastic about it during class, but that’s only because he doesn’t want to seem off task. he appreciates your thank you hugs very much, it’s a very heartwarming add on to let him know that you were grateful for whatever he did for you.

tokoyami: very much like todoroki the first time, has no clue what the hell is happening, brain has shut down, can’t compute. “ah. . . right, you’re welcome then.” awkward as s h i t. he’s just not used to being found as approachable enough for hugs, people usually shy their physical affection away from him. once he’s used to it though he never really hugs back. he’s just not a fan of giving hugs, but he doesn’t mind receiving them. which is why most of your hugs will end up being both of your arms wrapped fully around him from the side while on of his hands pats yours in acknowledgement of your affection.

jiro: and you’ve flustered the every living crap out of her! it isn’t that she’s unused to hugs, she’s just never met someone who hugs to say thank you, even for small favors that don’t take much time. she does love it though and it warms her heart to know that she means that much to you. but her hugs will always remain to be a bit brief, just because she knows she can be a bit awkward and she doesn’t want to make the situation uncomfortable for the both of you.

kaminari: your hugs are the best and kaminari will die defending that statement! he loves your hugs no matter the form; full chest to chest, side bro-hug, or from behind. no matter the type of hug they make him feel all happy and giddy inside, he looks forward to them every time he sees you. he always makes sure to return your hugs just as tightly, leaning his head into yours for the added closeness. he finds himself doing small favors for you through out the day just so he can get his thank you hug fill.

ashido: honestly, if she isn’t hugging you 24/7 already then she will definitely start after you’ve initiated it. her hugs are clingy and tight, not in the annoying way though. sometimes, when the hug is over she’ll hang onto your side a bit longer, resting her head on your shoulder as you carry on with your life. she likes to surprise you with hugs, coming up behind you to wrap you up in a tight embrace, overflowing with bubbly giggles.

sero: truthfully he’s a little awkward getting a hug from you for the first time, simply because he wasn’t expecting it. he warms up to the gesture very quickly though, once he realizes how nice your embrace is. is like kaminari where instead of outright asking for a hug he’ll gladly do you a favor in hopes of being treated to one of your top notch hugs.

momo: a very earnest hugger. she is taken by surprise the first time she is taken into your arms, though afterwards she always makes sure to return the gesture very well. she gives you a tight squeeze and a soft pat on your back to let you know that she is grateful for your kind-hearted affection. her hugs just make you melt because they’re always so warm and sweet, like she’s pouring all of her heart into them. the best hugger out of the girl’s

aoyama: pff lord this boy. he really does love your hugs, he thinks it’s a very sweet gesture of yours. “oh mon ami, you are so lovely! how kind of you!” he gives you a bright grin and returns your hug with earnest, patting your back with both hands. his hugs usually go by quick before he flutters off to some other place in the class room or dormitories like the social butterfly he’s come to be, but that doesn’t make them any less meaningfull.

sato: bear hug! exactly like kirishima where he’s all for it your hugs and showing your appreciation through physical affection. he’ll show his affection with not only hugs, but sweets as well! he’s hugs, like eijiro’s are all encompassing and strong, long lasting and warm. definitely the type to maybe make you feel like you can’t breathe for a brief second before you remind him that you need air and he stutters out an apology with a small embarrassed laugh.

uraraka: she thinks your hugs are the sweetest thing ever! once you’ve made it clear that she can hug you, she’ll bound over to you every single day and pull you into a good morning hug warm enough to make you want to fall back asleep again. she’s a runner up to momo’s hugs.

tsu: she’s very reserved with her return of affection, but that doesn’t mean she didn’t love your hug any less, she’s just on the quieter side of PDA, platonic or not. however she will admit to being the first to ask for one of your hugs when she’s feeling down, they just have a way of making her feel at peace.

shoji: strong hugs in return to yours, definitely, but not the type that make you feel like your lungs are about to collapse. his embrace is firm and comforting, allowing you to know that he is thankful for your hug, yet still short enough to let you know that he’s being polite in not declining your display of gratitude. he’s just a bit reserved.

koda: oh very very flustered at first, kind of like midoriya, but he’s giving you a big wobbly grin and hugging you tight so you know he’s not uncomfortable. he is also use to physical affection he is just extremely shy, even around close friends. don’t worry though he will never turn away one of your hugs, they’re one of the favorite things about his day.

ojiro: very friendly and bro-type hug in return, but he’ll briefly rest his cheek on your temple for the added sense of intimacy, to show that this does hold meaning for him. unless you two are really close you’ll never really get further than a side hug. his chest to chest hugs are far longer and he’ll then move his cheek to the top of your head or your shoulder, nuzzling slightly into your warmth.

toru: presses her face into your shoulder and loves every second of your hug. literally thinks you’re the sweetest and the way you show you’re thankful is absolutely adorable. will not hesitate to ask for another hug later on in the day, especially if she sees mina hanging on to you as well.

[ughseoks]

i love you. | knj

— pairing; namjoon x reader / slice of life!au

— genre/rating; fluff / PG

— word count; 1.8k

— warnings; periods (joon buys tampons & brief mention of blood), allusions to pregnancy

— summary; a series of important moments in your life alongside namjoon.

this is a birthday gift for my wonderful, amazing, perfect friend @interludemoonchild​! since it’s her special day, i wanted to write something i knew she’d like. that’s why i compiled all of the joonie drabble prompts she sent me a month or two ago into one singular story! i hope you enjoy, tay :) ilysm!

「 masterlist 」

going on a date with namjoon to an art gallery

On your first date with Namjoon, he took you to an art gallery.

At first, you’d been a little surprised-- art galleries weren’t the most common destinations for first dates. But any apprehension you’d previously felt had melted away almost immediately when Namjoon picked you up, his calm and caring nature immediately feeling like home.

As you perused the gallery, you didn’t share many of your thoughts, the silence of the building settling over the two of you like a blanket. Instead, you moved between the works alongside the taller man one by one quietly, spending more time staring at him than the art itself.

Something about him enraptured you. From the adorable dimples that appeared when he smiled to the way his boots clicked against the wooden floors, you were caught-- hook, line, and sinker. But more than anything, you were awestruck by the way he appreciated the art.

If you were being totally honest with yourself, you could never really appreciate art galleries the way others could. The art was undeniably beautiful, but you’d never had the special reaction that people often talked about-- the one that Namjoon was having. Every so often, he would stop in front of a piece, his eyes growing wide and his breath catching in his throat. He’d stare at it with stars in his eyes, mouth slightly open as the world faded around him, the world reduced to just himself and the work of art.

Without fail, he would look at you a minute later with a sharp turn of his head, apologizing with a shy smile every time it happened. You’d reassure him that you didn’t mind, and you weren’t lying. It was fascinating to watch, and something about the behaviour tugged at your heartstrings.

He’d taken you out for dinner later that night, ears turning red when he accidentally knocked his silverware off the edge of the table with a clang. You’d simply giggled, his clumsiness warming your heart just a little bit more.

When the night was over and the two of you were standing on your front porch, he’d awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, the tips of his ears turning red as he looked anywhere but you.

“I-- I had a really nice time tonight,” he’d admitted, finally making eye contact with you, “Maybe we could, uh, do this again sometime?”

A huge smile had crossed your lips at that, butterflies erupting in your stomach. You leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek, giggling when his face flushed completely red. “I’d love that, Namjoon.”

--

sending namjoon to the story to buy things and he’s a wreck, but gets through it with your help

You loved Namjoon. You really did. It’d been about six months since your first date, and you’d never been this happy in your life. Really.

But for someone so smart, he could be very, very stupid.

When you’d woken up that morning to terrible cramps and an almost empty stash of tampons, you’d sent him out on an errand. The task was simple: buy a box of tampons from the convenience store a few blocks away.

It really shouldn't have taken that long, but Namjoon was Namjoon, and he’d apparently never bought tampons before. So, there you were, practically on the brink of death as you texted your boyfriend instructions.

When he finally got home, you’d nearly cried in relief, heart bursting when you realized that he hadn’t only bought tampons-- he’d also bought a pack of Tim Horton’s kcups and a family sized box of honey bunches of oats.

“I knew these were your comfort foods, so I got some,” he’d commented, holding up the grocery bag in one hand with a nervous smile on his face. “I’m sorry it took me so long, I just wanted to make sure everything was right--”

He was cut off with an oomph when you flung yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his torso in a bear hug. Tears were flowing down your cheeks, the fabric of his shirt becoming soaked with the salty drops.

“I love you,” you’d cried into his chest, your heart a few seconds away from exploding because of how much love you felt for the man in your arms, “I love you so, so much.”

He’d immediately dropped the bag and wrapped his arms around you, giving you a gentle squeeze as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “I love you too, _____.”

--

helping namjoon cook because he’s a mess

“I have a movie request for tonight.”

“If it’s Wall-E, I’m revoking your movie suggesting privileges. We’ve watched it twice just this month.”

“I no longer have a movie request for tonight.”

Namjoon laughed at the pout on your face, reaching over to ruffle your hair playfully before turning back to the stovetop. It was your second anniversary, and Namjoon had insisted on making you a romantic dinner from home.

At first, you’d protested-- after all, neither of you were very skilled in the cooking department. Your microwaved ramen incident had definitely proven that. But Joon reassured you that he wouldn’t burn the house down in the process, along with a promise to order takeout if his endeavors failed.

The dish of the night was simple, but classic: pasta. All he had to do was boil the water, wait for the noodles to cook, and let the sauce heat on the stove. There was almost nothing he could mess up if he simply followed the instructions word by word.

But alas, he was only Kim Namjoon, and thirty minutes later, you were watching Namjoon dip his fries in his shake, giving him a judgemental glare. If he noticed your distaste for his food combination choice, he didn’t comment, opting to press a salty kiss to your pouting lips instead.

--

playing in the rain with namjoon because he loves it

Pit. Pat. Pit. Pat.

You lifted your gaze from the book in your hands, making direct eye contact with Namjoon as raindrops began to patter against the roof of your shared home. They grew louder and louder as the seconds passed, and just moments later, Namjoon grabbed your hand to drag you off of the couch.

Once you were outside, the raindrops kissed your hair and cheeks as you spun around, a childlike giggle falling from your smiling lips. Water splashed up against your red rain boots, the shiny rubber squeaking with each one of your twirls.

Normally, by this point, Namjoon would have already grabbed you around the waist, spinning you around before pressing a kiss to your rain-soaked hair. But after a few moments, you were still spinning alone, and the familiar giggle of your boyfriend nowhere to be heard.

Slowly coming to a stop, you turned your head in search of the familiar mop of brown hair, only to let out a small noise of confusion when you saw him kneeling before you. His baggy jeans were soaked where they pressed into the concrete, wet strands of hair sticking to his forehead.

He looked ethereal.

“Joonie?” you half-whispered, realization dawning on you as he pulled a small black box out of his drenched pocket. Tears began to mix with the raindrops slipping down your cheeks, your lower lip trembling as you tried to contain your sobs of happiness.

“____,” he exhaled, words barely audible over the downpour surrounding you. He tilted his head up to meet your gaze, peering up through his wet bangs to give you the most loving smile you’d ever seen. “I love the way you insist that pizza is pie. I love the way your eyes sparkle while gazing at nighttime cityscapes. I love the way you listen to salsa music until all of the songs begin to blend together. I love how you take care of me; how you pick up the broken pieces of glass without getting annoyed when I accidentally break something. I love you. You are my everything, I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my life with you.”

You couldn’t control your sobs anymore, shoulders shaking as he opened the box to reveal a beautiful engagement ring.

“Will you marry me?”

Unable to form a coherent sentence, you settled for nodding enthusiastically, a grin spreading across Namjoon’s face in response. He immediately stood up from his spot on the ground, wrapping his arms around you to pull you into a crushing hug.

Both of you were soaked from head to toe, but you couldn’t be happier when he slid the ring onto your finger, rain kissed lips moving against yours when you captured them in a tearful kiss.

--

namjoon being nervous about having his first kid thinking he's gonna hurt the poor baby but when he sees child his worries are gone

“Joonie,” you placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze, “Something’s bothering you. Talk to me.”

Your husband let out a long sigh before wrapping his arms around your waist and tugging you onto his lap, nuzzling his head into your neck before mumbling. “Do you think I’m gonna be a good dad?”

“Of course,” you answered without hesitation, bringing a hand up and carding it through his soft brown locks.

“But I’m so clumsy,” he whispered. You could feel drops of liquid hitting your neck, your heart breaking when you realized he was crying. “What if I drop her? What if I assemble the crib wrong and she gets hurt? I’m just an accident waiting to happen. How can I possibly be responsible for another person? I can barely go a day without breaking something, _____. I’m destined to fail her.”

“Woah, woah,” you hushed softly, pulling back so you could wipe away the tears staining his cheeks, “Joonie, you’re psyching yourself out. You have nothing to worry about, baby. You’re going to be an amazing dad.”

“But--”

“Joon,” you pleaded, taking one of his hands and moving it so it was resting on your baby bump, “I have never believed in anything more than I believe in you. I know it’s scary-- even I’m nervous that I’ll fall short-- but you can’t give up before we’ve even tried. Once she’s here, everything will fall into place. It’ll be okay, I promise.”

--

“Hey sweetheart,” Namjoon exhaled, extending his hand out for his daughter to grab. She was beautiful, just like her mom.

Her little finger wrapped around his larger one, tears threatening to spill over as a huge smile spread across his face. Suddenly, all of his worries were gone, any trace of nervousness or fear replaced by an all-consuming love; the kind that felt like it might swallow you whole in the best way possible.

With you and your daughter by his side, he could do anything. He would do anything.

“It’s me. Dad.”

「 masterlist 」

© ughseoks 2020, all rights reserved. do NOT modify, translate, or repost my works. modification, translations, and/or redistribution of my works on any platform is strictly prohibited.

[sxfterhearts]

scarred

29. [11:04 am]

➳ pairing: yugyeom x reader

➳ genre/warnings: slow burn, fluff + slight angst, slight bad boy!yugyeom, triggers; mentions of violence, injuries, physical abuse, bullying

➳ word count: 3,027 words

➳ summary: 29. “Well, what do you want to do?”

➳ author's note: once again, thank you to @jinyoungot7​ for this beautiful gif :”) and guys!! i’m so sorry for the delay, but here’s part 2 of wounded/24/7:25pm!! 🤗 i’ve decided it’ll be a 3 part story hehe i hope this is a good continuation of the 1st part!!! thank you for showering me with love and as always, any feedback is welcome + appreciated! feel free to drop me a msg or an ask if you’d like 🥰

wounded // scarred // healed

“Wait up!” You yelled, your thighs burning as you tried to jog up the steep, narrow alley. Just twenty minutes into your walk and you were huffing and puffing as though you ran a full marathon.

“Come on, Y/N!” Came Yugyeom’s voice from far ahead, growing more and more distant as the black puppy tugged and pulled on its leash, leading him further and further into the winding maze of streets and back alleys. “You can do better than this!”

“I’m trying,” You muttered to yourself, taking a deep breath before going full steam ahead in an attempt to catch up with the boys.

It was a miracle that you three got this far, really. It took you nearly three weeks to convince Yugyeom to volunteer at the dog shelter run by your best friend’s mum. Every time you brought up the topic, he would either ask you about homework or fake a wince, prompting you to inspect his latest injury. He finally agreed last week. Your birthday was coming up soon, and he asked you what you wanted as your birthday present and how you were celebrating, in the bluntest way possible. “Well, what do you want to do?”, were his exact words.

One thing you learned in the past month since you sat with him in your family’s restaurant was that Kim Yugyeom was not one to beat around the bush. If he wanted to know something, he would ask about it without batting an eyelash. If he had an opinion, he would state it in the most straightforward, yet nonchalant way possible. You supposed it came with years of being labelled the quiet kid. It made sense that he was awfully efficient with his words.

Naturally, you had asked him to fulfill your birthday wish of visiting the shelter together. “Don’t you want something more substantial? Like a present that could either be useful or memorable?” He wondered curiously.

“This is memorable, Yugyeom.” You told him, looking him square in the eyes. “You won’t just be doing me, or the dog shelter, a favour. You’ll be helping me create a happy memory. Nothing is more valuable than that.”

Sweat trickled down your back as you jogged the final stretch towards Yugyeom who was taking a rest on a bench in the neighbourhood’s park. Charcoal, the black Pomeranian puppy you two were responsible for this morning rested comfortably on his lap, thoroughly enjoying all the attention Yugyeom was giving him. You watched as you slowly approached the pair, trying to commit the peaceful scene into your memory. The morning sun casted its brilliant glow upon them, and you could just make out the beginnings of a fond smile gracing Yugyeom’s features as he smoothed his hand, the one with just a lone plaster on the thumb, repeatedly over the puppy’s soft fur.

It was nearly picture perfect, if not for the sudden yelp the boy emitted when the puppy licked across his wrist. There was a shallow graze from when a piece of glass sliced through the skin from two days ago, which had just started to heal. If not for that Friday nearly a month ago, you wouldn’t have insisted on staying at the restaurant until closing time and would’ve left around dinner time like you always did. Ever since then, you always waited until Yugyeom came in with his order just in case he needed someone to patch him up. You distinctly remembered how relieved you were that night because the glass missed a vein or an artery. Yet, the thought left you disgusted. You shouldn’t be feeling any form of relief at all. Regardless of how shallow his injuries were, his uncle was still being abusive. You shook your head to clear your spiralling thoughts.

“I think he tired himself out.” Yugyeom said in a slightly strained voice when you arrived by his side. The boy was flapping his injured wrist repeatedly in the hopes of alleviating the stinging pain.

Without a word, you kneeled and took his wrist in yours, blowing on it with earnest. While it was true that a dog’s saliva had potential healing capabilities, you didn’t want to risk an infection. Especially judging from Yugyeom’s earlier reaction and the way his skin was just starting to clot, you figured it was best to leave it alone. The newly formed scab looked pink and tender, but it was on its way to healing properly.

Unbeknownst to you, Yugyeom started to squirm in his seat. He was getting flustered by the way your dainty fingers danced across his skin, and the cool air that soothed and blew his pain away. From this vantage point, he could look down and watch the glistening beads of sweat as it rolled down the side of your face, your soft lips pursed tightly in concentration. It was distracting. “I… It’s fine, Y/N.”

You released his hand and handed him a packet of tissues from your pocket, already missing the smooth feel of his arm under your fingertips. “Maybe I should take over?” You cocked your head towards the dark little ball of fluff lying on his lap, its tongue stuck out in an adorably goofy way. “Scooch over, Kim.” Scooping up little Charcoal in your arms, you moved to sit beside Yugyeom. You marvelled at the tiny creature lying curled up atop your legs. He was barely five months old and took up nearly three quarters of your lap. Just as your hand moved to pat his head, the puppy looked up and playfully gnawed on your fingers.

“Treats?” Yugyeom suggested, producing a brown paper bag from his pocket. “He could be hungry.”

“Here, I’ll do it-”

“Charcoal, do you want some treats?” Yugyeom spoke in a high-pitched tone, as though he was playing with a baby.

Before you could stop him, the boy had already reached out his palm full of treats for the puppy. You breathed an audible sigh of relief when you realised it was his relatively uninjured hand. “Look at you, Kim Yugyeom. You’re a natural when it comes to puppies. Who would’ve thought that you were so reluctant to visit the dog shelter just a week ago?”

He quickly shushed you, his fingers enveloping the puppy’s flappy ears to prevent him from hearing you. “Charcoal doesn’t need to know that, okay? Besides, this little guy changed my mind.” Yugyeom let out a fit of giggles when the puppy gobbled up all the treats and ended up licking his palm instead. “It tickles,” The boy squealed.

You watched, amused at the softer side of Yugyeom that was surfacing in the presence of the black puppy. “You know, the Imo at the shelter always talks about having way too many puppies. You could always adopt one. I think it’ll be good for you, you know? Having a furry companion can be a huge source of comfort and emotional support.” You suggested, your tone as gentle as possible due to the sensitive nature of the topic.

Yugyeom peeled his eyes away from Charcoal and connected his gaze with yours instead. You couldn’t really articulate it or fully understand it, but there was something in the way he looked at you that struck you as inherently sad. “Listen, Y/N, there’s something I need-”

“Yugyeom hyung!” A boy exclaimed from the general direction of the playground. The two of you whipped your heads around and followed the voice until finally you saw a boy, probably a middle school student, with a long fringe identical to Yugyeom’s, waving enthusiastically.

“Bambam!” Yugyeom waved back, beckoning the younger boy over to where you sat.

He sprinted across the field in a matter of seconds, giving Yugyeom a typical bro hug as a way of greeting. “What are you doing here, hyung? And who is this? Is she…?”

Yugyeom hurriedly clasped his palm against the younger boy’s mouth, muffling his words. He pinched Bambam’s cheeks teasingly instead. “Behave, kid. This is Y/N, and this is Charcoal.” With the younger boy distracted by the little puppy, Yugyeom took this chance to give you a brief explanation. “Bambam is our neighbour. We play soccer together with Mark hyung.”

“Hello, Bambam!” You greeted with a wide smile as you watched the younger boy coo at the puppy. You never met any of Yugyeom’s friends before, so this was a first for you. It seemed that beyond his tough exterior and bad boy façade, he was just a normal boy who loved puppies and playing soccer with his friends.

Just as Bambam reached for Charcoal’s tiny paws, to your dismay, you noticed that his knuckles were a familiar shade of black and blue. “Bambam, your knuckles…” No way, you thought, was he like Yugyeom?

“Bammie,” Yugyeom started in a scolding tone, sounding far more mature than he usually did. “Are those rascals still bothering you? I thought you told me that they stopped.”

“Yeah, well,” Bambam looked like a deer caught in headlights. “It was just, you know, a small fight, nothing too serious. I swear! I’m completely fine. It doesn’t even hurt, really!” The younger boy scrambled to explain himself.

“Where are they? Are they here?” Yugyeom seethed, his tone dripping with dangerous venom and his eyebrows forced together in a frown.

Bambam peered over his shoulders briefly at the playground before shaking his head profusely. “No, just forget it, hyung. It’s fine.”

“Take me to them, kid. Right now, and I’m not going to ask twice.” Yugyeom moved to stand before directing his words at you. “I have to go take care of something for a bit, I’ll be back.”

You nodded, speechless. Sure, you’ve seen Yugyeom mad before, but hardly to this extent. The only incident that came close was when he stopped that classmate of yours from striking you across the face. As the two of them walked away, your mind began to race with irrational thoughts. You pondered the list of possible scenarios as your hands absently stroked Charcoal to calm yourself down. Was Bambam getting into fights? But why? Could he be the target of bullying? The young boy seemed so innocent and harmless though, why would anyone do that? It just didn’t make sense. Those long agonising minutes seemed to stretch out as you waited and waited for them to return, praying that they would still be in one piece.

After what seemed like a lifetime, you felt Yugyeom’s presence once again as he collapsed onto the seat beside you. “Oh, hey.” You muttered, voice small and uncertain.

“Hey yourself.” He replied with a small laugh, intrigued by your worried expression. A few moments passed, and then, “Are you going to ask what happened?”

You turned your head to face him, quick enough that you felt a slight strain in your neck. “Are you injured?” You started prodding at his body, mainly inspecting his fingers, his palms, his arms and his face.

The evident worry written across your features amused Yugyeom to no end. He wanted nothing more than to iron out the creases on your forehead and turn your frown upside down. “Of course not. The little rascals who bullied Bammie are nearly half my size. I could’ve taken them out like a light.”

You flinched slightly at the unwanted imagery that filled your head. “Please don’t say that, Yugyeom. Please don’t tell me you got into a fight. I don’t want you to get hurt any more than you already do.” You confessed.

“Not to worry, I just gave them a stern talking-to and sent them on their way, unharmed. They scattered like little mice, honestly.” He was met with your confused stare. “Basically, Bambam is Thai. His classmates picked on him because of that. The kid’s parents don’t know about it but I’ve seen what they did to him. I had to stand up for him and protect him. I couldn’t just watch from the sidelines as my friend got hurt over and over again.”

His words left you stunned once more. You had heard rumours of him getting involved in fights with bullies in lower grades before, but this was the first time you got confirmation from the boy himself. You never thought that the cuts and bruises he showed up with in class were actually battle scars he suffered when defending someone else. He stood up for the kids who had no one, just like how he wished someone would stand up for him. So much for that bad boy façade of his.

There was a sudden urge within you to give Yugyeom a big hug for what he’s gone through and what he’s done for others, and so you did. It was more of a side hug, due to the puppy now napping cosily on your lap, with one arm coming around his middle and holding him close to your side.

Yugyeom didn’t know what to do at first. Should he stay still? Should he say something? He decided on reciprocating in the end, his other arm resting securely on your petite shoulders. In those few moments, the two of you were enveloped in a calming silence, filled only by Charcoal’s soft snores and the rustling of luscious leaves above your heads. Yugyeom could only hear his own heart beating thunderously in his ears.

“I’m sorry for all the pain you’ve experienced, Yugyeom.” You started, causing Yugyeom to shake his head in response. None of this was your fault, yet you felt the inexplicable need to apologise. “Thank you for being so brave and so kind to your friends and to those other students who got bullied.” You paused to sniffle, hot tears already pooling in your eyes, blurring your vision. “I’m… I’m sorry that, all this time, all these months, I could only watch from the sidelines as you got hurt, over and over.”

"No." He replied resolutely. "You didn't just watch from the sidelines, Y/N, you need to… Wait, no, are you crying? Why…? Don't… don't cry." Yugyeom panicked, trying his best to quiet you down. He didn't have a clue on how to comfort a crying girl. He tried to rub his palm soothingly over your back, but you didn't stop.

It wasn't until Charcoal, who had been woken up by all of the fuss, moved around in your lap and began pawing on your stomach. He even tried to lick your face, but he could only reach the bottom of your chin. You broke out into a giggle, and Yugyeom finally let out a breath he didn’t even realise he was holding.

“Don't cry anymore, you're an ugly crier.” Yugyeom said just as you were beginning to calm down. Before you could retort, he continued, “In my case, there was no way for you to shield me from my Uncle's punches or tell him to bugger off. You did the best you could for me, I don't even know why you're doubting that. You didn't have to patch me up when I was injured. You didn't have to be kind to me when I've never even spoken a single word to you. And yet week after week for the past semester you would sit there beside me, silently cleaning my wounds and covering them with those cute yellow plasters. You didn't have to, but…” He reached into his backpack and produced a yellow handmade card. “You didn't have to, but you became my friend.”

“What’s this?” You accepted the card gingerly while wiping stray tears off your wet cheeks.

“Your birthday card. Happy early Birthday, friend. Don’t read it until you get home, yeah?”

You inspected the yellow card, with Yugyeom’s signature chicken scrawl and random stickers of smiley faces littered all over the surface. There was even a Rilakkuma plaster, identical to the ones you would stick on him, at the top right corner. It was one of the most heart-warming cards you had received.

“Yugyeom, I…” You turned to face him. The scar right in the middle of his face, the one you first saw when you met him at the restaurant, caught your attention briefly before you finally met his eyes. You held his gaze, trying to convey a whirlwind of emotions through eye contact alone. Gratitude, happiness, fondness, touched, awe-struck. “Thank you,” You uttered sincerely, as it seemed to be the most appropriate response.

//

You read his card the minute you got home, sitting cross-legged on top of your bed.

Dear Y/N,

Happy Birthday! I wish that you will celebrate your birthday well with your family and friends. May each year be happier than the last.

I’m not good with words, as you always remind me, so I will just cut to the chase. First of all, thank you for being the light amongst the darkness of my life. There are not enough words in my vocabulary (or the dictionary) to express what you and your family has done for me. I will never forget it and I hope to repay this huge debt in the future.

Secondly, there is something I need to tell you that I cannot bring myself to say out loud. I am not brave, which is why I have to say this through a letter. Mark hyung got a job two months ago at our local football club as an assistant. Perhaps your mother has told you this, but his increased independence has resulted in the greater severity of my Uncle’s violence. Last week, after watching hyung play, the coach offered to get him transferred to Incheon United FC. Incheon is a distance away from Namyangju, which means we won’t be able to come back for frequent visits, but it is a good chance (and perhaps our only chance) to get away from Uncle.

This is what I keep telling myself whenever I think about leaving this town; about leaving you. As much as I would like to stay beside you, I have to break free from him.

I leave the second week of school holidays. If you find it in your heart to forgive me, let’s have one last bowl of naengmyeon together, okay?

Your friend, always,

Kim Yugyeom

For the nth time that day, the boy had left you speechless.

[currywaifu]

𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞: pansy 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩: hyodo juza/reader 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: sfw 𝐰𝐜: 3.3k words 𝐝𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨: Pudding~☆ ~, Anne, & ballpoint✨

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: reader teachers juza how different flower colours can mean different things 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: this work is a part of the flower shop event, a series of unconnected flower shop AU one-shots

“Will you let him stay for a while?” Tsumugi asked you, your eyes immediately shifting to the tall, purple-haired man beside him. Though his expression was tough, he refused to even spare you a glance save for the when he first entered the store.

“Well…” you trailed off, still a little conflicted on what decision to make. On one hand, it was hard to refuse one of the flower shop’s regulars— especially when the explanation behind his sudden request reasonable enough. On the other hand, as nice as Juza probably was on the inside, if he was just going to stay silent the whole time it not only would be awkward, but there was a chance he’d scare some customers away.

As soon as the thought entered your head, you felt a little awful. He literally hasn’t said a word to you?

Making up your mind, you slowly nodded in response. “I don’t mind. He’ll just be observing the flowers, right? And looking at the reference book?”

“Yes, that’s pretty much it. Thank you for accepting,” Tsumugi turned to look at his junior, patting his arm lightly, “see you back home.”

“Thank you for your patronage, Tsukioka-san.”

“… see you, Tsumugi-san.”

As soon as the blue-haired man left the building, all was silent again.

What were you supposed to do? Would he appreciate you showing him round the store? Telling him about all the flowers? Do you ask him about what he needed to know for this role? Would he prefer to be left to his own devices and do it on his own?

When he suddenly called you by your name, well, surname, you’re caught off-guard. You turned to face him, and though he still can’t look you straight in the eyes, he at least knew you were listening.

“… sorry, I’ll try not to be a bother,” he says, frown still present but voice unexpectedly genuine, “…might scare your customers away, though.”

He didn’t sound sad about it, resigned if anything, but you found that you were kicking yourself anyway despite him not knowing what was going through your head a while ago. While you couldn’t comfort him or anything, there was at least something you could do to help him.

“Juza-kun,” you said, and for the first time, his eyes met yours. Perhaps if the two of you were to lock gazes at another place and time, you would have been intimidated; enclosed at the space of your flower shop, you somehow figured you’d end up enjoying his company.

“Would you like to see some flowers?”

…

Sunday.

“… don’t really get it,” Juza muttered, the pads of his fingers carefully brushing against the petals, “why I got chosen for this role.”

You paused your previous ministrations, setting aside your spray water bottle to look at him questioningly. By the manner Tsukioka-san explained Juza’s situation earlier, he made it seem as though the latter was enthusiastic to play this role— was he mistaken?

“What do you mean?” you asked, walking over to the same spot Juza stood. Neither of you faced the other, as though you two were talking to the vibrant colours instead.

“Flowers are delicate,” the petal slipped from his index, “I’m not,” he said matter-of-factly.

Neither of you could deny that.

“… maybe you’re focusing too much on thinking of flowers generally,” you replied, the silence consuming the both of you thereafter.

The two of you barely talked the rest of the day, the only other time the two of you glanced at each other was when he said his farewell.

Monday.

Coming back from school for your shift at the shop, you didn’t expect to run into the purple-haired man on the way there.

“Juza-kun?” He stood quietly at a street corner, his stillness making you wonder how long he’d been there. Weren’t… weren’t people looking at him suspiciously? Did he notice? What was he doing?

He greeted you back, and you found yourself in an awkward stare-off with him for a few seconds. With a cough, he darted his eyes away from yours. “You weren’t at the shop,” he replied gruffly.

Oh, was he waiting for you?

You let out a little laugh as you asked him to follow you, failing to miss the small hint of surprise on Juza’s face as he walked behind you. The walk was quiet, but your mind was noisy with questions.

“Did you want to look at the flowers again?”

“… thought about what you said.”

You couldn’t react immediately, already stood at the storefront. Stepping into the shop, you greeted your co-worker and your companion quickly distanced himself, taking to the assortment of potted plants instead.

“Is that delinquent your boyfriend or something?” your co-worker whispered quietly, peeking behind you worriedly. You stopped in the middle of tying your work apron, narrowing your eyes.

“What?”

“He was standing outside a while ago,” she explained, “but he left pretty quickly. I thought he was being shady, but then he comes in with you?”

You sighed, rubbing your temples. Right, you didn’t get the chance to mention Tsukioka-san’s request from yesterday. You didn’t think you had to?

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you corrected, immediately shutting down whatever notion she had in her head, “Tsukioka-san asked me to help him with something.”

You almost giggled at how quickly she perked up at the familiar name. You bet he didn’t even realise how popular he was.

As you bid your adieus in advance, you exited the storage backroom and nearly yelped at the sight of Juza hunched over the counter, looking through the reference book.

“Are you looking for something specific?” you asked, leaning onto the counter to peer over the pages.

“… yesterday, you said I was being too general.”

You raised your eyebrows. Was he still thinking about that? “Guess I did, yeah.”

He flipped over another page, eyebrows furrowed as he skimmed through the content in front of him. You were sure he was trying his best to absorb the content, but you had a feeling it wasn’t working out as well as he had hoped.

You placed a hand over the book, and though you barely covered anything he got your intention pretty quickly.

“That’s going to take you forever,” you insisted, angling the book to face you instead as you flipped the pages over to the table of contents.

“What do you need for your characterisation, anyway?” from the corner of your eye, you could see the gears turning in his brain.

“Something happy,” he started, and you found yourself mentally listing down all the readily available flowers that fit into that meaning. Should be easy enough, there were many flowers that corresponded to happiness—

“Something calm,” he continued, and you found yourself turning around to look at him incredulously. “Something innocent.”

Was he gonna keep going?

“Something passionate, and something about new beginnings.”

“That’s a lot,” you stated the obvious, racking your brain for any flower that could possibly mean all of those. Maybe even a set of flowers from the same family? Happiness and innocence were often associated with each other anyway, and there were many flowers that meant passion anyway— though more on the love side of things. The other two, though…

“I’d need to look a bit more into that,” you apologised, eyes flitting from name to name to find a similar flower, “did Tsukioka-san say anything that could help?”

Juza let out a small hum, “he gave me a list.”

You thought he’d pull out his phone or something, so you couldn’t help the small laugh as he brought out a ripped out piece of notebook paper from his pocket. As soon as he handed it to you, you found yourself ticking off the flowers that wouldn’t work— whether it be obscurity or having a too vague meaning.

Lavender… Lily… Magnolia…

You stopped at the next flower listed. Oh, that could actually work?

“I think I have a reference for you,” you said. Unbeknownst to you, Juza subconsciously registered that as the first time you smiled at him.

Tuesday.

Why weren’t you surprised he would be at the street corner?

“Juza-kun, just wait inside the store,” you told him, a little exasperated. You understood his intentions, but he didn’t have to keep waiting outside every time for your arrival? "What if I got back a little late?”

“S’fine,” he mumbled quietly, falling into step with you, “it was only for a few minutes.”

“Ouka High is a lot closer, though,” you reminded him, “at this rate you’re gonna end up as a landmark.”

The conversation fell short again, the background noise filling up your silence. The door chime rang as you opened the door, and you checked in with your co-worker while Juza found himself with the flowers again.

“Did the delivery—?”

“Yep, it came today! Aha, he’s actually looking at some of them right now?”

Thanking her, you headed over to him and stared at the vibrant pink.

“Gentleness,” you said, loud enough for Juza to hear you, “pastel pink pansies mean something along the lines of gentleness and innocence.”

With Juza’s head bowed down, you thought he himself looked a lot like a pansy— a flower that resembled the human face, intelligent and pensive, nodding forward late in the summer as though deep in thought. The colour of his hair didn’t help diminish your imagination, either. After minutes of silence, he finally spoke up again.

“Muku,” he muttered. You tilted your head in confusion.

“Muku?”

“… my cousin,” he explained, “is a lot like this flower.”

Maybe it was your imagination, but somehow he sounded, looked a little softer.

“You must be pretty fond of him,” even if he weren’t to reply, you knew you already had your answer.

Wednesday.

You were running. Somehow you got distracted by the new cookies they were advertising at a cafe near your high school. Perhaps it was because of your ongoing situation with Juza, but as soon as you read the words “dessert” and “edible flowers” you made a bee-line for the store.

… and you ended up buying more than one, too. A whole pack of 6, actually. Really, who could blame you? The blue, pressed pansies atop the honey glazed lemon shortbread cookies looked absolutely scrumptious!

But now you were in a rush to get to work, and in your haste, you accidentally bumped into someone. You found yourself a little shocked as you looked up, familiar purple hair coming into vision.

“Oh, Juza-kun,” you greeted, “you’re actually not at the corner today?”

“Got dismissed late,” he said with a shrug, “you?”

You let out a chuckle, lifting the paper bag so he could see. “I bought some cookies after school. I thought the flowers on them were cute,” you explained, and for a split second, you swore Juza’s eyes widened slightly.

“… cookies?”

“Hm? Yeah. Do you like cookies?”

“… they’re fine,” he turned to face sideways, though that didn’t hide the pink blooming on his cheeks.

Oh?

“I’ll give you one later,” you said, doing your best to stifle the laugh that threatened to escape. How unexpected! That was kind of cute, actually. “We’re going to keep blocking the sidewalk at this rate, we should go.”

Somehow, the silence wasn’t so awkward this time, a little calming, even.

Thursday.

That was weird. No sight of Juza on the way to the flower shop— was he running late? Would he not be coming today, after all? For some reason, the thought made you a little sad. Perhaps you were starting to enjoy his company, after all.

Your co-worker gave you a knowing glance as soon as you entered the building, and any confusion immediately dissipated as you saw your purple-haired… friend? (Did he consider you two as friends?) by the yellow pansies.

“Juza-kun!” you greeted with a smile, pleased to hear him say your name as he greeted you back. Even with just this much, you were glad to have crossed a new boundary with him.

You nearly ran over to him, only stopping midway as you heard quiet laughter. You turned to face your fellow florist, holding up your work apron.

Aha, right.

“I’m only doing this as a favour to Tsukioka-san,” she mimicked as soon as you stepped in the backroom, “he’s not my boyfriend~”

How was this woman older than you?

You groaned, trying to put on your apron as fast as possible before bolting out the door. “Byeeee,” you said, hiding from her line of sight as you rushed over to Juza.

“Hey,” you greeted again, alerting him of your presence, even though he probably already knew you were there beforehand.

“Haven’t seen this one yet,” he commented, eyes a little narrower as he looked at the bouquet of yellow blotch pansies. “You said they meant happiness, right?”

The corners of your lips turned upward. “Oh, you remembered!” you said in delight, if not a little proud, “yep! Happiness in general… but,” you trailed off, causing your companion to look at you with interest.

“Is there another meaning?”

You laughed a little awkwardly, not meeting his gaze while not exactly avoiding it either. “I mean, it’s more of a personal interpretation, so it’s not really important.”

You could still feel his eyes on you, making you feel a bit self-conscious. Aha, seriously, the atmosphere between the two of you was already good— what were you doing?

“… I do think your opinion is important, though.”

You coughed, looking at him with a mixture and disbelief. Surprisingly, he didn’t retract or back down from his statement at all, further amplifying your flustered feelings. He remained unbothered, almost as if he somehow didn’t realise your reaction?

“Um, well,” you began, “you know how there’s like a dark coloured blotch within the yellow follower?”

Juza hummed in response, letting you know that he was following.

“On one hand, I think it could mean pretending to be happy even though you’re in a dark place,” you explained, “but it could mean finding happiness even though you’re battling your inner demons…”

He doesn’t respond for what seems like minutes, and you have half the mind to quickly change the topic. Your interpretation was probably a bit of a reach, wasn’t it? Too edgy, perhaps?

“… that was good,” he said, “I liked what you said.”

Though his praise was simple, you found yourself beaming anyway. It… was nice to know that he appreciated what you said.

Before you could get another word in, you heard the door swing open. You should probably attend to that.

You turned your back to Juza, about to walk away from him until you felt a tug on your arm. You stilled, wondering what could have possibly prompted the sudden contact.

“Juza-kun?” you asked quietly, voice unexpectedly shaky.

“… your apron is loose.”

“Oh! Thanks, I, uh, probably didn’t tie it properly,” you reasoned, your arms reaching back behind you to tie it, a somewhat futile attempt but an attempt nonetheless.

You failed to notice the cherry red blush on Juza’s face, to focused on trying to remove your own.

Friday.

“So how many colours are there?”

“Way too many,” you answered, “like sometimes they come in one colour, sometimes two or three; sometimes pastel, bright, or dark— all of them probably have different meanings too.”

You propped your elbows on the counter, hands cupping your face. In the past few days, you were able to accompany Juza wherever in the shop, but Fridays tended to be more busy compared to the other weekdays, causing the need to be heedful for incoming customers.

“So even more colours to learn…” you laughed out loud. How seriously was he taking this? Just for one flower?

“I mean you only really need to stay until you have enough info to flesh out your character,” you pointed out.

He didn’t reply for a while, and you had nearly worried that something had happened back there, but Juza piped back in the conversation eventually.

“So red symbolises passion, right?”

“Yep!” you said, fingers idly playing with the loose thread of your apron, “though I supposed a lot of red flowers mean passion and love, huh.”

“… and the white pansies?”

“It can mean purity and spirituality,” you started to explain, “but some say that when you give it to someone, you’re telling them to give you a chance.”

The room fell silent once more, but over the course of a week you didn’t mind it anymore. It was a little comforting, actually, having someone around— not even to help you with the shop or anything, but just a friend to talk to.

As you were about to close the shop, Juza appeared in front of you.

“I think I have my character figured out now,” he told you, and you felt yourself swelling with happiness and accomplishment.

“That’s great! Our hard work finally pulled through!”

The tiny hint of loneliness that you felt got left unsaid.

“Sorry for bothering you all week.”

“Trust me, I wasn’t bothered at all!”

Saturday.

“Huh, he’s not gonna be here today?” your co-worker asked as you arrived for your shift, “I legit thought you were joking about just helping him out of the goodness of your heart or whatever.”

You smiled a little sheepishly, “he already figured out what to do for his role. I’m sure he must be busy practising now, so I probably won’t see him around.”

You pretended to not see the look of sympathy thrown your way.

Sunday.

Two weeks had passed since you last saw him, and you chided yourself for thinking that the shop felt a bit emptier lately. At what point did you get so fond of him?

Even now, on the way to the shop, you found yourself stopping at the street corner, as though he’d be there again and was just too shy to enter without you.

Seriously, just what were you doing? Friends could go a while without seeing each other, it wasn’t a big deal.

Or at least that was what you told yourself for a grand total of three minutes, because that all came crumbling down as you saw his familiar figure standing outside the flower shop.

“Juza-kun?”

You approached him with slow steps, briefly wondering if you just went through some next level hallucination, but the closer you got the more evident that he was the real thing.

“Umm, is there something you need?”

His eyes wouldn’t meet yours, not unlike the first couple of days you spent with him. “… here,” he unloaded the two things into your hands, one of which you recognised while the other was a mystery.

You checked the envelope first, a pleasant surprise greeting you.

“A play… your play ticket?” you asked him, and he nodded as though to confirm your assumption.

“I remember you said you weren’t busy during that time and day, so…” with a gentle smile, you tucked the ticket back inside the envelope for safe-keeping.

“I’ll be there to support you, for sure.”

With the mystery item set aside, only the white paper bag with the flower logo was left. Somehow, even without opening it, you already knew what the contents would be.

“… they had other colours and flavours for the cookies,” he said as you took out the small box of 6, “the ones with the white pansies are vanilla and cinnamon flavoured, and the ones with the pink pansies are dark chocolate and raspberry flavoured.”

It took a while for you to comprehend the situation, still a little befuddled by him even appearing again until you realised what he was trying to say.

“White and pink pansies,” you said with a laugh, before ushering him back inside the shop.

You suddenly felt a lot less lonely.

“ thank you for your hard work today at the flower shop! here, feel free to take home these pansies with you~ ”

【 pansy 】 admiration, remembrance  【 pink pansies 】 gentle tenderness, innocence 【 blue pansies 】 calmness, trustworthiness  【 yellow pansies 】 happiness, bright disposition 【 red pansies 】 passion, love 【 white pansies 】 innocence, purity, “take a chance on me”

“ maybe you’d like some more flowers before heading home? ”

-ˋˏflower shop masterlistˎˊ-  |  -ˋˏfic masterlistˎˊ-

[subtlereferencetomyinterests]

Complexities Unknowable- Chapter 7 (Finale!)

Ao3,   1    2    3    4    5    6.  MasterPost

Relationships: Deintruality, background Analogince

Warnings: Cursing, Remus-typical language and jokes, Minor self-deprication/insecurity, the ol’ ‘thinks-it’s-unrequited-and-is-oblivious-to-obvious-flirting’ song and dance, all sympathetic sides, feelings of being left out, also I accidentally projected too hard and now Patton has adhd oops. 

Word Count: 4,000 (approximately)

Patton felt better than he could ever remember feeling. Sleep came easy as it hadn’t for him in years. It was amazing how far a little bit of understanding went.

When all your closest friends are together, you get lonely. Patton wouldn’t say that he was jealous, but everything was different now. When he used to spend time with the others, it was four pals spending quality time together! Now when they did, it was a date, except oops! Patton’s here too! How awkward!

He knew that was unfair. They didn’t really think of him that way, of course not. Hence why he didn’t bring it up.

It wasn’t like that with Remus and Deceit. Even though they were dating, Patton never felt left behind. Their humor was dark and snarky but accessible, not laden with inside jokes that he’d missed out on or specific clues that he didn’t pick up. 

The inclusiveness they treated him with was probably borne from being excluded for so long, though he didn’t like to think about that. The fact was, the three were friends now, the past was past, and Patton was drinking in their companionship like fine wine (or, to be more accurate to himself, a grape juice box).

It did not take him long to figure out why he was so fond of their company. You can only spend so much time with Deceit prattling about the dangers of repression before you start to unearth all of those deeply buried feelings.

He’d fallen for the Dark Sides. Whoops. 

Could you really blame him? Deceit, suave and clever and funny, yet so gentle when he wanted to be; Remus, bold and brash and energetic, but still with such a deep empathy hidden in him! It was no wonder that the two were already together- anyone who spent as much time with them as they spent with each other would be head-over-heels as well! (Patton was speaking from experience on that one). 

Initial surprise regarding the feelings had soon faded to something almost comfortable. He was happy to have them as his friends alone, so what was a little crush? No big deal!

...Was what he had thought ten minutes ago, when there wasn’t an affectionate Remus wrapped around him, chattering off various compliments.

“I could hold you forever, Patty. You are just the softest, like a water balloon full of blood and organs! But still so ripped, I mean, damn!”

“Language,” Patton chided meekly, trying very hard to not dissolve into the ether.

“Awww, you can’t make an exception for me? Just this once? I’ll make it worth your while~,” the last part was a hushed sing-song right near Morality’s ear. He felt his face redden, but forced himself away to refocus on… whatever he had been doing.

“Nope, no exceptions,” he chirped, going back to- right! Cleaning!

“You aren’t tempted at all? You are so responsible- and that’s really one of the sexiest qualities there is.”

It was just Remus’ nature to talk to people like that, Patton told himself firmly. The Creative side was just expressing his friendly affection in a way that made sense to him. It came alongside being close to someone so unused to ‘typical’ friendship dynamics, after all. Patton reminded himself of this again and again, denying himself the desperate urge that welled up and told him to respond in kind. He would not purposefully misinterpret Remus’ actions for his own gain, he was better than that!

“Thank you, Rem,” just nice, platonic gratitude for nice, platonic compliments. 

Eventually, finally, mercifully, The Duke had seemed to get bored. He disentangled himself from Patton (appearing rather crestfallen, though the moral trait wasn’t sure why), and wandered off. 

But that, whether for good or for bad, was hardly the end of that.

Deceit’s room was magnificently cozy. It was armchairs that swallowed up whomever sat in them, warm lamps casting down on all surfaces, and jazzy music playing distantly in the background. In other words, the perfect place for a good cup of tea and some sandwiches, not to mention pleasant conversation.

Deceit lounged back in his oversized chair, sending Patton an inscrutable look across their teacups. The side smiled, hoping that was the appropriate response.

“So,” he drawled, switching the track of their conversation abruptly, “You’re something of a seamster, aren’t you?”

Patton stared blankly for a moment before the term clicked.

“Oh, you mean a seamstress?”

“Sorry, I thought you’d prefer the masculine, but that really was presumptuous of me,” Deceit amended in apology. 

“I didn’t know that there was a word for it other than seamstress. Hey, isn’t it kinda weird how some jobs are like that, when you think about it? Like how there’s actors and actresses! Why wouldn’t ‘actor’ be all encompassing, ya know?”

Deceit made a vague noise of disinterest and waved his hand, as though manually cutting off the tangent in conversation.

“Yes, gender is a distasteful societal construct and an overall prison to our consciences, we both agree- but regardless, you sew. Make clothing and things like our quilt. Isn’t that right?”

“Right- yes.”

“Do you make all of your own clothes, then?”

“Hmm, sometimes I do- I mostly make stuff for the others. It’s easier to conjure simple stuff for myself, but making them is a lot of fun!” Morality gestured enthusiastically to the pastel pink sweater that he wore, fluffy and intricately patterned. 

Deceit’s eyes glinted in a strange, intimidating, and also incredibly hot way. Patton almost forced the attraction out of his mind, before realizing that that kind of repression would definitely be noticed in this part of the Mindscape. 

“I would have to say you have quite the talent, in that case,” the dishonest trait set down his cup and craned his body over the small table between them, heterochromatic gaze alight with… something. Patton cleared his throat. 

“W-Why’s that?” 

“You look positively hideous in that, my Dear,” he purred in obvious lies, gloved hands now sitting in the middle of the table and creeping forward by the inch.

“Aw, thanks,” Patton croaked, fighting the urge to lean forward in turn. 

Something strangely disappointed flashed in Deceit’s eyes, but he quickly recovered. He reached out to run a hand along Patton’s sleeve, the touch lingering against his arm.

“My my, that’s just like a cloud. How did you manage that, Darling?”

Morality shivered as Deceit continued to toy with the fabric of his sweater. 

“I-It’s probably because it’s made with love! Since that’s what I am, kinda,” he stammered, desperately trying to keep up the cheery tone.

“I’m inclined to agree. There’s beauty in all you touch, Sunshine.”

Oh, the pet names. Patton really couldn’t take it; he jerked away and pressed his back against the chair, before he had the chance to do something stupid. Honestly, it was sad how hard this was for him- Deceit was just trying to be a good friend! It wasn’t his fault that he showed it with flirts!

“You’re too sweet,” with distance reestablished, Morality found it much easier to formulate words, “I really appreciate you, Dee.”

Deceit blinked, still hovering over the table. He cleared his throat and snapped back into his seat, suddenly looking the part of the cold and distant Dark Side that Patton had feared just months prior. Guarded, callous, stoic. It was almost frightening, how quickly he changed. 

“Yes, I know you do. Let’s change topics, shall we?”

Patton, feeling quite a bit of whiplash, nodded hesitantly. Their conversation continued to flow normally, for the most part, but he couldn’t help feeling that he’d messed up somewhere. There was something heavy over them, but Patton hadn’t the slightest idea what it was. 

For a brief, dizzying moment, he wondered if they were moving backwards. If he’d somehow crossed a line when he was trying so hard not to, and now they were two steps back again. Just the thought of it made him too sick to finish his tea.

Patton didn’t have to be worried for long about that particular mishap, thankfully, as a very momentous occasion had swallowed up the fear. Remus and Deceit were going to be joining in their first ever movie night as part of the family! 

There’d been plenty of TV marathons with just them and Pat already, but now they’d all come together! As part of the group!! Contributing to the voting and the arguing and the joking and the experience of it all!!! Needless to say, Patton was practically bouncing off the walls in his excitement. 

He plopped down onto the couch with a bowl of popcorn, passing a much larger container of snacks to the amorphous blob of limbs and sass that had once been his three best friends, cuddled together far across from him. Now, all they needed were the Dark- sorry, former Dark Sides.

He wasn’t waiting for long before Deceit and Remus appeared in the living room (Remus, thank the lord, wearing actual pajamas). Patton couldn’t contain the happy little chirp that escaped him, scrunching himself to one side of the sectional so that they’d have plenty of room to make themselves at home.

Rather than huddling together in the crook of the curved sofa, however, Deceit immediately gestured for Patton to scooch over, and Remus sat on his other side. Morality was happy (if a bit surprised) to comply with this new seating arrangement, flashing them bright smiles. In light of recent events, being so close with both of them was a little dizzying, but it wasn’t too hard to bear. For now.

The conversation on which movie to watch that night was more agreeable than usual, which was nice; they got right to the marathon with little hassle. Patton sighed as the opening credits to Tangled played. At that moment, his life couldn’t get any more wonderful. Surrounded by the people he cared about, finally all together, it was perfect. 

And then, a mere ten minutes in, Remus leaned his chin on Patton’s shoulder and pressed into his side. 

“Mother Gothel is such a Milf.”

Patton would usually have been put off by the sexual comment, but at that moment Deceit had also seemed to decide that he’d make a good headrest. Which was fine, this was fine. Some mild friendly cuddling- nothing he couldn't handle!

Another twenty minutes later and Remus twisted an arm around his waist. Deceit held Patton’s hand between a couple of his own. By this point, they were beginning to look a lot like the cuddle pile wrapped up together on the other side of the couch. He was still alive, though!

Neither of the sides beside him moved an inch until the film ended, only begrudgingly letting go when Morality had to get up for a snack refill. Even then, they latched back onto him as soon as he returned. Thus began the second movie, and the beginning of Patton's slow and snuggly death.

Every few minutes, it would be something else: Deceit ran a hand or two through his hair, Remus hooked his leg around Patton’s, Deceit nuzzled against his neck, Remus laughed into his shoulder, et cetera et cetera et cetera.

Three movies in and he was barely keeping up with the conversation. His head was spinning and he was sure he’d never been so warm, but more than that he felt protected. Even adored. He wasn't often on the receiving end of affection, and the longing brought with it ached, but he never wanted it to end.

Then Virgil yawned (oh yeah, the other three were still there), exiting from the ending credits of All Dogs Go To Heaven and clicking back to the main screen.

“Bed time,” he grumbled, a tone so intimate and low and clearly meant for his boyfriends that Patton almost felt bad for overhearing it. 

“It is getting quite late,” Logan agreed, standing to stretch. Roman followed suit and dragged a  sleepy Anxiety up with him.

Virgil tossed the remote in Patton's general direction and let Roman haul him up in his arms (Deceit caught it with an unoccupied arm, given that the moral side’s brain was currently jelly). The three bid their goodnights and were gone with a few shimmers of color and a whoosh.

“I guess we should head up, too,” Patton murmured, working very hard to disguise his reluctance. To his surprise, the traits sandwiching him only sank further into his sides.

“Oh, you’re absolutely right, it’s so very late,” Deceit rumbled, his face partially hidden in the crook of Patton’s neck.

“Yeah, I’m exhausted. I can’t move,” Remus added, his voice ticking up in a noticeably mischievous way. 

“I can’t either. We should stay, just like this.”

Patton's heart warmed, looking between their adorably sleepy faces. He couldn’t lie, the offer was tempting, but in such a situation his brain came back to him. Despite the continued proximity of his crushes, this was something he could handle! 

“Aww, don’t you worry about it, I’ve got ya,” and, making very sure that his grip was secure, Patton stood up with Deceit and Remus cradled in either arm. He hardly staggered under the weight of the sides, familiar with such heavy lifting. 

Remus and Deceit went from sleepiness to pure shock in a matter of milliseconds. Deceit instinctively clung to Patton with all of his limbs, meanwhile Remus gave a startled laugh. Their faces were a matching pink; oh, he could have made them uncomfortable!

“Is this okay? I promise I won't drop you.”

Remus nodded frantically; Deceit squawked in an affirming sort of way. 

Relief washed over Patton and, satisfied with the response, he sank out in a circle of cyan. For a moment, he feared that the nausea that The Subconscious usually brought him would unsteady him, but he was left pleasantly surprised when he felt none. In fact, it felt just like rising up anywhere else. Just as easy as breathing. Hm.

He didn’t dwell on it too long, ascending The Subconscious’ staircase and bringing his cargo to the first bedroom he saw (Deceit’s). He nudged the door open with his shoe, carrying them right to the bed and dropping them down gently. Remus fell onto his back with a happy hum; Deceit stayed upright and stared at Patton with wide eyes. He huffed a laugh and nudged The Snake's shoulders, and Deceit let himself fall beside his boyfriend, dazed. 

This was routine for Patton: grabbing the covers and blanketing his friends, as he’d done for probably every other side at one point or another (even Logan, though he would deny it furiously). Once Remus and Deceit were sufficiently tucked in, he stood up and dimmed the lights to near darkness. 

“Alright, you two have a good night's sleep.”

There was a noise of approval from the pair. Patton gave them one last smile before disappearing back to his own room. To scream into his pillow and think about how gay he was.

Which meant that he didn't get the opportunity to hear the interaction that followed between Dee and Ree.

“Well, that didn’t backfire at all.”

“I want him to snap my spine in half like a glow stick. He could break every bone in my body and I would thank him,” Remus replied dreamily. Deceit hummed in agreement. 

“Perhaps we should try a more… direct approach, as this doesn’t seem to be working in our favor.”

“I dunno about you, but I’m feeling pretty fuckin’ favored right now.”

“I was suggesting that we be more-” he very nearly gagged, “Straightforward.”

“More like gay-forward, actually,” Remus corrected, “But I’m with you! You know I love being direct.”

“Now when I say direct, I don’t mean blunt.”

“I don’t understand the difference.”

“I know you don’t. Let me do the talking.”

“Fine by me! Whatever works to get him to pick me up and throw me!”

Deceit rolled his eyes, settling his arms around Remus. 

“Yes, yes- but I’m actually wide awake right now, and I’d love it if you keep being loud all night, Dearest.” 

“Oh, right,” Remus lowered his voice, curling himself around the lying side in turn. Together, their breathing slowed. As they drifted to sleep, the feeling of Patton's arms around them still ghosted their skin.

Patton was cleaning furiously. He’d already reorganized the entirety of his room- twice, for that matter- and now he’d moved to the Common area. It hadn’t been so much as a week since his last tidying session, and the Mindpalace was pretty much spotless, but that was irrelevant. It was as good a distraction as any.

Maybe he was avoiding the trifecta of trifling traits- aka his best friends- because he knew that they’d ask about why he was being so weird lately. Maybe he was avoiding Deceit and Remus, the reason that he’d been weird lately. Maybe he was just avoiding his thoughts about them, because seeing them all cozied up and sleepy and adorable a couple nights ago really hadn’t helped settle his growing infatuation with them. Most likely, he was avoiding all three. 

But he had failed to take into account that The Common Area was not the best place for avoiding stuff. Given that it was. A Public Space. 

“Patton,” began the voice of Deceit behind him, in a tone deadly serious.

He spun around to see a very embarrassed Dee and an immensely giddy Remus. Well, Shhhhh-ucks. Shucks. 

“Hey!” Patton tossed the sponge in his hand back into the sink and pretended that he wasn’t freaking out at that exact moment. 

Deceit hardly registered the greeting, continuing: 

“We need to talk to you.”

“What about?”

The Snake opened his mouth, and promptly closed it. His eyes had widened concerningly, and he cast his gaze downwards.

“We-” he cut off again. Patton’s worry was mounting. 

“DeeDee?” Remus prompted, elbowing his partner’s side, “I thought you were doing the talking?”

“I-I can do this, I’m not tapping out,” his voice was frenzied, hiding himself behind The Duke in a rare display of fear. 

“Guys? Is something wrong?” Patton approached them, all of his nervousness about his feelings forgotten in the face of this distress, “Whatever it is, you can talk to me.”

Remus gave him a warm smile, not hesitating for a breath. 

“We came to tell you you’re hot and we wanna date you! But, you know how bad Dee is with words! Anyway, whaddya say?”

Deceit, for his part, nodded in deep resignation. And Patton’s head reeled.

He could hear, audibly hear his heart thumping against his ribs. It was probably as simple as a confession could get, but regardless he found himself frantically replaying the words over and over and over again. He’d never imagined- not even for a second- even the thought of it- 

Mentally, he took a step back. Roman, Logan, and Virgil were an item. Remus and Deceit were an item. And Patton was a third party, paternal and caring and watching out for all of them and their misadventures, though he knew he’d never be entirely part of it. But maybe, now he could be. After everything, they wanted not to just be with him, but to be with him.

It didn’t process.

“I- You- What- Me?”

Because there is good in this world, Remus (correctly) interpreted his flustered stammering as surprise and not distaste. The smile that he almost always wore widened and he took a step forward, dragging the mildly less panicked Deceit along with him.

“You,” he confirmed, shimmying excitedly in place, “Definitely you. And us.”

“I second that not-at-all vague sentiment. We’ve grown unfortunately fond of you,” Deceit uncoiled himself from Remus enough to be seen clearly.

Patton saw it. He saw, in full light and understanding, the subtext in their previous interactions. And now that he did, he had no idea how he’d missed it. A testament to the power of his insecurity, probably. But that didn’t matter, because they liked him back.

Patton failed to words. But, they were very near, and he was very happy, and in the light of new context, he figured that they wouldn’t mind the response he opted for instead. 

He hopped forward with a delighted squeal, scooping the traits up in his arms. Remus started cackling and immediately returned the hug with just as much fervor. Deceit wasn’t far behind for once, allowing his face to split with a smile equal parts shock, relief, and glee. 

“Oh, I love you two so much!” Patton laughed out, burying his face in Remus’ hair. 

“I love you back!” Remus said in kind. 

Deceit attempted a dramatic groan, but he failed to tamp down his grin. 

“It could be said that I feel something love-adjacent for the both of you. Perhaps.” 

Patton’s mind was swimming in joy, so much so that it barely registered when Remus tilted his head back only to lean forward, and oh wow, were they kissing. Patton’s vision was all bright blurs of color, and he melted. The creative trait pushed up against him, rough in much the same way as an overly excited large dog. Patton hardly had time to reciprocate the kiss before Remus broke off completely from the hug, unflustered and unaffected by what he’d done, save for a light blush.

“Now you guys!”

Oh, he was still hugging Deceit. 

“Only if it’s okay?” he’d barely gotten the apprehensive words out of his mouth when it was suddenly occupied, and the world went back to hazey vibrance. Deceit was almost skittish, a barely-there press against his lips like he expected Patton to shove him away. He didn’t, by the way. Rather, he slid a hand up to rest between the side’s shoulder blades, bringing him nearer. 

After a moment, they pulled back slowly, not letting go of each other. 

“That was hot, ngl,” Remus chimed from his perch on the counter.

Patton was overcome with a fit of giggling, energy building in him. He ended his and Deceit’s very drawn-out embrace to satisfy the necessity of full body wiggle. He was in Silly Mode, there was no avoiding this until it had been exorcised via The Joyful Movement™. Patton flapped his hands at his sides and shook his hair out, laughing all the while. Today could not possibly get better!

But he remembered his audience of two. He looked up, hair fluffed up and face flushed with fading excitement and a tinge of self-consciousness. 

“Sorry, I got over-excited...”

“That,” Deceit announced solemnly, “Was astoundingly adorable.”

“I’ve died a gruesome death,” Remus rolled off the counter and onto the ground with a crash (and some bone crunches thrown in, probably for fun), “My heart overloaded, it has burst. There’s blood everywhere, it’s in my eyes, I’m now also blind.” 

Patton’s relief escaped in another bout of laughter, and something lifted in him. A weight that had been there for so long that he hadn’t even remembered it was there, nor how it felt to be without it. But now that it had left, he didn’t know how he had been living with it for so long. There was airiness in his chest, a clarity in his mind, a general sense of contentment rushing over him. This wasn’t a face he put on for others benefit, it wasn’t a fleeting enjoyment of one thing or another- what it was was a deep, thrumming joy that overcame him. 

He was happy. 

Naturally, Patton could not finish cleaning due to. Circumstances. Those circumstances being, he was finally letting himself indulge in some quality time with his new boyfriends (an identifier he very much liked the sound of). 

The trio were half-laying on the Common room’s couch, a tangle of various limbs. Remus leaned against a pile of pillows, and Patton rested his head on his chest. Draped across the both of them was Deceit, fastening all of his arms around them in a manner simultaneously protective and needy. Oh, and also very, very cute. 

“This was totally what I was planning from the beginning,” his voice reverberated through Patton’s chest, “God, I am so great at plotting.”

Remus clicked his tongue agreeably, pressing a kiss to the top of Morality’s head.

“Yeah, I was pretty sure we were gonna end up killing you, Pumpkin. This wasn’t even in the ballpark of outcomes.” 

Patton hummed in thought, cuddling himself closer to his partners.

“I dunno. I’d say your plan turned out pretty well.”

@deceits-left-glove​ 

@princemesscharming

@shrimp-crockpot

[roggenmuhme]

Strawberry Colada

The Pearls x Reader Summary: You get drunk and your unsuspecting gem girlfriends have to deal with it. There's always a first time for everything, right? [A series of short one-shots/Human Antics series] Wordcount: 2.3k

I hope this whole collection isn’t too ‘out there’ for you to enjoy, a lovely person on discord had this prompt idea and it … just took over. I legit couldn’t stop thinking about this, so here goes nothing. So far I have Jasper, Bismuth and the Diamonds planned; if you have any input/ideas, I’d be glad to hear them! (But I can't promise anything, some characters are incredibly hard for me to write unfortunately) As always, feel free to contact me for anything really - imbutahumblefarmer#5583 on discord! Also tumblr is being weird with the format again - can also be read here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23864869/chapters/57363457

Warning: Detailed descriptions of nausea, along with the more uncomfortable feelings of being drunk. Be careful, please (no vomiting)

Dedicated to that one time I fell asleep cuddling a clorox bottle. The hot, humid air around you quickly became overwhelming as you pushed past a couple standing irritatingly close to the exit. Your hand clenched around your smartphone, the only thing grounding your upset stomach right now. You definitely had had one shot too many with your friends an hour earlier and the wild dancing afterwards didn’t help either. As you fought to keep the bile down, you swore off Jägermeister for at least a month. Pushing open the heavy, black door, you greedily breathed in the cold air. It felt almost as good as the ice-cold glass of water you had downed minutes ago, a desperate attempt to keep the nausea at bay. Stumbling away from the entrance, you hastily looked around, searching for any sign of your girlfriends. You had texted them fifteen minutes back, when it became obvious to you that you had to end the night early, too sick to continue. They had answered in seconds, you knew how vigilantly Pink Pearl watched her phone (she had been enamored with the device ever since she got it, because it meant constant and fast communication with you) and now all you had to do was wait for them. Easier said than done, in your drunken stupor all of your thoughts flew to your gut, you knew you had to keep moving or else its contents would soon find another home on the streets - and you hated vomiting.

Pacing around in front of the dimly lit club entrance, the dulled bass soon blended into the background and seconds turned into hours. You cursed yourself for being so careless with alcohol this time, falling victim to the peer pressure of your friends. In the end, it was your fault for accepting too many drinks and you knew tomorrow wouldn’t be fun. But right now, you had different problems on your hand. Just as you were about to check your messages once more, someone yelled out your name as if it wasn’t two in the morning and they hadn’t seen you just hours ago. Quick steps followed and soon an enthusiastic Pink hugged you from behind, her arms digging into your stomach. As much as you wanted to appreciate the sweet gesture, you nearly expelled  your hearty dinner in that moment. “H-hey”, you croaked, slowly turning your head to meet a loving gaze. “C-could you let me go?” In an instant her arms were gone and she appeared next to you, a sweet smile on her face. “Hey!” You tried to reciprocate her grin, but it looked rather pained. Somebody pointedly cleared their throat behind you and you didn’t have to turn around to know who the culprit was. Although you were slightly compromised right now, you still made a show out of turning around slowly, clearly trying to annoy Yellow Pearl. When you finally faced both Blue and Yellow, the latter rolled her eyes at your antics, but you knew she didn’t really mean it. Blue Pearl promptly rushed over to you to greet you with a gentle hug, her voice nearly too quiet to be picked up by your abused ears. “I’m so glad you want to go home so early.” You forgot your upset stomach for a moment as you patted her back, melting into her touch. It was adorable how they all missed you the instant your back was out of the door, even grouchy Yellow. Said gem brought you back to reality with a snide comment, one hand touching her chin. “You look absolutely disheveled, what have you been doing?”, she leaned in to inspect you closer, only to recoil in horror. “Stars, you reek!”, her tone was seriously offended, her face scrunched up as she blinked rapidly. “Oh...”, was all you could muster, suddenly aware of you unkempt your whole presence was. A wave of nausea forced the thought into the background, a hand flying to your mouth as your cheeks comically puffed out. “Oh no”, Blue put a hand on your shoulder, as did Pink. With two concerned pearls to either side of you, you only managed to blurt out a ‘let’s go’, hoping you’d make it to your apartment without any accidents. As you tried to power-walk your way back home, the alcohol hit you once again, making you stagger with each step. Blue and Pink stabilized you with a surprisingly firm grip (sometimes you forgot how strong they could be despite of their slender builds) while Yellow took the lead, arms crossed behind her back, throwing you a glance every couple of minutes.The silence was overbearing and your mind too focused on that dreadful feeling in your gut. You couldn't take it any longer.

"Please…", you huffed out. "Tell me something. Talk to me."

Next to you, Pink piped up, her voice excited. "Blue and I made a batch of your favorite cookies!"

An image of said cookies flashed through your head and your stomach turned at the thought. As much as you loved a homemade batch, food was the least appealing thing you could imagine right now.

You made the most disgraceful gurgling sound. "About anything else, please? No food, I beg of you…", you heaved out.

Pink let out a surprised noise, seemingly at loss for words. Even in your inebriated state you could feel the guilt creeping up, they had no clue what you were going through (not that you could explain it right now, anyway) and were just trying to help you. “Ugh”, you tried talking through a surge. “S-sorry, I can tell you why tomorrow, but I’m j-just not up to speed.” Blue clutched your left arm a little harder and Yellow looked at you a little longer than necessary. Yes, they were definitely worried for you. “B-but it’ll pass”, you took a deep breath. “Promise!” Pink gave you a small smile at that, but you could still see concern in her eyes. You owed them a detailed explanation tomorrow. The chatter picked back up, Yellow and Pink taking turns. One was more or less bickering, the other eagerly talking about the evening they had spent without you. Blue practically hang from your arm, slightly massaging your tense muscles when she felt another tremor working its way through you. You got accustomed to walking after a while, your overloaded brain phasing in and out of the situation. When you finally arrived at home, it felt like you had teleported to the location. Your aching feet told you otherwise. To your amazement, the nausea had died down a bit, probably due to time and fresh air. You’re were still hammered though.

As the Pearls ushered you as quietly as possible into your shared apartment, you could feel the exhaustion creeping up your eyes instead. Your walk became even more sluggish, you barely managed to kick off your shoes (much to the displeasure of Yellow, who gave you an indignant sigh) and you blindly wobbled to your bedroom, all three of them following you. As you simply face-planted into the incredibly soft bedding, Yellow was getting winded. “No, no, no!”, she picked you up by the back of your shirt, hauling you back into consciousness. “You’ll ruin the sheets.” Struggling to find your footing, she only released your top after you were out of the door, the soft giggling of Blue and worried gaze of Pink following you. After closing the bathroom door forcefully behind you, she left you alone. Now it was only you and your haggard reflection in the mirror. “Goodness”, you steadied yourself on the sink while you poked your eye bags. You looked very… unfavorable, to say the least. Nothing a full night of sleep couldn’t fix, though. Sighing, you sat down on the toilet lid to wrestle yourself out of your clothing - all those zippers and hooks had been easier to put on a couple of hours ago. Somewhere during the struggle - probably between wiggling out of your socks and fighting with some knots in your hair, your eyes simply clamped shut. You fell asleep then and there, outfit still on, slouched on the toilet seat. After ten minutes of no noise - especially not the tinkling of the shower head -  Yellow decided to check up on you, the other two in tow. As the three of them peered into the bathroom, Yellow had to suppress a groan at your sight, while the Pink and Blue laughed silently. Rolling her eyes, she strode up to you, lightly touching your shoulder, trying to wake you up. Your head lolled back in response, eyes flickering open for a moment, promptly closing again. She tapped your chest with her index finger once, as if to chastise you. “You should feel honoured that you’re my human”, her voice was barely above a whisper as she lifted you up with a sour expression, the others quick to help her. Together, they carried you back into the bedroom, freeing you of your restrictive clothing. Pink and Blue quickly found their usual places right next to you, cuddling up to you with ease. Your subconscious made you curl into the both of them, Pink lovingly stroking your hair away from your face. Yellow sat on the edge of the mattress, frowning while she watched the three of you. “Why don’t you join us?”, Blue’s voice was hushed, trying not to wake you up. Yellow raiser her chin in response. “And dirty myse-” She didn’t get to finish that sentence as your hand shot up and pulled her towards the cuddle pile with an iron grip. “C’mere.” She squealed in surprise, face immediately on fire. After a minute of adjusting herself, she eventually settled into a comfortable position and reluctantly drifted off, as did the others. You woke up to the sound of soft breathing and an unfamiliar pressure on your stomach. Looking down, you first saw Blue resting on your chest and further down a lightly snoring Yellow. Pink’s face was nestled in the left side of your hair, her breath warming your scalp. Groaning as quietly as you could, you strained your neck to take a look at the time, only to be greeted by Blue’s head shooting up, a tired smile on her lips. “Morning”, you grinned at her, promptly pressing your hand against your mouth. You had the most terrible morning breath, even you could smell yourself. A wave of humiliation washed over you, along with an agonizing headache. She only giggled and pressed a kiss to your forehead instead, then quickly got up to wake the others. After Yellow basically propelled herself out of bed in shock and Pink finally (after many gentle words and loving touches) was ready to let go of you, you were forced to take a shower and brush your teeth, no matter how bad the headache was. To Yellow’s credit, you did feel better after getting clean. The sun was still painfully bright and your head wasn’t done with throbbing to the beat of some imaginary techno tune, but you felt like you could at least stomach some food now. The smell of your favorite breakfast hit you as soon as you left the bathroom, guiding you to the kitchen, where an excited Pink Pearl prepared a hefty plate for you and Yellow and Blue sat at the kitchen table, a hushed conversation going on between the two. As soon as Yellow caught your eye, she crossed her hands over her chest, her voice shrill in annoyance.  “Well, why didn't you tell us you were drunk?”

"Uhm…", you blinked at her for a second, a bit lost. "I thought you weren't familiar with the concept and I swear I didn't plan to escalate like this yesterday. I'm so sorry."

You looked down to your hands, nervously fiddling around with the hem of your shirt. It wasn't like you were lying, in all your excitement you had forgotten to warn them - going out was such a normal thing in life and you weren't usually one to get that wasted. This didn't absolve you of your guilt at all, you had probably scared the ever-loving shit out of them still. They were a trusting bunch that believed you when you told them something - that was perhaps why they hadn't fussed over you yesterday. You had assured them that everything had been alright, after all. Pink sat the plate down at your usual place, a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

"We know you didn't mean to hurt us. But we were worried!"

You said nothing, your face hot with shame, hands now tightly clutching your shirt. “Come, sit down”, Pink lightly pushed you towards the table and you reluctantly plopped down, your non-dominant hand immediately clasped by Blue. She gently stroked it with her thumb, a gesture of reassurance. It helped a bit. Yellow rolled her eyes at your sorry form. “Stars, you are so dramatic!” “It really isn’t much of a problem”, Blue piped up next to you. “Just tell us next time, okay?” One shy glance at each of them later, you reluctantly nodded. “I’m still sorry I fucked up.” “It’s okay”, Pink giggled a bit at your puppy eyes. “I think you’re paying enough already.” As if to illustrate her point, your head throbbed once again. “...Maybe.” As you finally dug in, one last thought got the better of you. Something didn’t really add up here."Wait - how did you know I was drunk?", you asked perplexed, the fork in your hand coming to a grinding halt. Yellow didn't say anything, she grabbed something from her lap instead: Pink's smartphone, cluttered with a million stickers. Holding it between her index finger and her thumb, she began to waggle it in a 'gotcha' motion, her face the ultimate deadpan. The google logo was displayed on screen."You know, your human communication devices aren't that bad after all."

[steviatea]

hey, if you’re still taking requests i’d love to read anything kim/lydia!!!! can’t get the two of them out of my head

Oh my god, you have no idea how much I smiled when I received this! Kim/Lydia is honestly my OTP, rare as the pairing is. :’) I’ve written some soft hurt/comfort stuff for you! Thank you for the request!

Here’s the AO3 link if you’d prefer to read there~ 💕

There are numerous things that Kim notices about Lydia in their time together, such as the way that Lydia stirs her stevia into her tea, or the fact that she’ll occasionally wear mismatched shoes, or even how she idly takes Kim’s hand into her own when they’re sitting beside each other, playing with Kim’s fingers for a change instead of anxiously fidgeting with her own.

Kim learns that Lydia never drinks coffee, only tea, and when told that tea isn’t available at a restaurant, she tends to behave as if she’s been personally insulted. Kim likes to hold her hand in these times, a little bit of comfort, and she can tell that Lydia appreciates it by the way that the stress upon her face softens to grateful appreciation.

She notices that Lydia loves to wear the same shades of blue that Kim does, and that she’s an avid enthusiast when it comes to talking about the routes trains move in, and the transportation and shipments she manages at Madrigal Electromotive. Kim particularly enjoys the way Lydia smiles when she rambles about things that Kim has next to no knowledge on, nevertheless appreciating how cute it is when she gets enthusiastic.

Kim additionally observes that Lydia is a dedicated mother, and that she adores her daughter Kiira with every bit of her heart. It’s endearing to watch the two together, and even more heartwarming when Kim herself gets to join in on their family activities. Movie nights with animated movies. Finding Nemo is Kiira’s favorite, and Kim’s already seen it several times through spending time with Lydia and her daughter. It’s even more heartwarming to Kim on a personal level whenever Kim comes over to Lydia’s house and Kiira herself is excited to see her.

She’s come to learn little details about her relationship with Lydia through talks with her daughter. It’s adorable to hear validating little things from the perspective of a child: “Mommy always smiles when she talks about you.”

Then, there are the little things that Lydia does — little behaviors that don’t directly impact her relationship at all, but things that Kim finds endearing to watch, like the way that Lydia plays with things with her hands when not picking at her nails or fidgeting nervously. The way she plays with stevia packets, the way she brings those little packages to restaurants whenever they go on dates. Kim isn’t a fan of the sweetener herself; she’s full-on happy with sugar alone, but she supports her girlfriend and her passion for the alternative sweetener.

It’s the little things about Lydia that Kim has come to adore.

She also discovers that Lydia cries like she’s practiced in the art of hiding it from others — this is something that Kim notices when she awakens one night, pulled from her dreams by the sound of weeping so quiet that Kim might have otherwise slept through it, had she not been a light enough sleeper. It’s a sorrowfully soft sound, hushed and suppressed as crying could grt, but easy enough to hear in the stillness of the night within Lydia’s otherwise quiet bedroom. Hearing her in such a state is deeply troubling to Kim; she’s certain she’s never heard her girlfriend cry before.

Sharing the bed with Lydia, Kim naturally has to do something — she can’t simply go without taking action. Lydia’s facing away from Kim, laying on her side and likely unaware that Kim isn’t any longer sleeping. Reaching over, Kim’s fingers gently brush over the younger woman’s shoulder, her voice a groggy murmur when she speaks. “Hey, is everything okay?”

Even the lightest of touches causes Lydia to startle, flinching upon being touched. She quickly turns over, the widened whites of her eyes visible enough in the darkness to show the clearly startled expression upon her face. She breathes quickly, on the verge of a panic attack, but recognition sets in shortly thereafter. “Oh, god — Kim?” Her words are strained, nose stuffy from crying.

“Yeah, it’s just me,” Kim reassures her, sleepily resting her hand upon Lydia’s arm. Certainly, she hadn’t meant to scare nor startle her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Lydia takes a shaky breath, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand and sniffling. “It’s… it’s okay,” she manages to stammer out in response, though her rapid breathing suggests otherwise. “I just didn’t expect you to wake up,” she adds, lowered to a hoarse whisper, her words carrying a desolate sound about them when she speaks between unsteady breaths. 

“Let me get you a tissue,” Kim tells her in a gentle, albeit somewhat groggy tone as she reaches over to Lydia’s night-stand, feeling around for a tissue box she knows is there before successfully grabbing one.

Lydia accepts the tissue with a murmured, “Thank you.” The noise that she makes when blowing her nose directly contrasts the uptight yet graceful attitude she’d keep about herself during the day. She’s the opposite of fancy, in the state she’s in now; hair rustled and no longer meticulously straightened or pulled-back in a tight bun. There’s something that Kim finds adorable about her in the middle of the night, though, in pajamas and comfortable clothes. Setting the tissue aside, Lydia adds, “I’m sorry for waking you up.”

“No, no. Don’t worry about it. It’s totally fine,” Kim says, and though it’s hard to keep the sleepiness from her voice and overall disposition, she still instinctively fusses over Lydia, Kim rubs her hand along the other woman’s arm in what she can only hope is a soothing, comforting manner. “I can always sleep more later, I’m just worried about you. What’s going on?”

“Nothing, really,” Lydia croaks in a weak little voice, immediately dodging the subject. She’s wordless for the next few passing moments, sniffling and shuddering enough that Kim could feel the vibrations in the bed springs below them. Kim could guess that Lydia’s not accustomed to talking in-depth about her feelings like this — in fact, she seems almost afraid to do so at the moment.

“Are you sure?” Kim’s mind, though a little slow to start due to just having woken up, is already heading toward self-doubt and insecurity of her own. Her and Lydia haven’t had any major arguments yet in their relationship, but it’s an unfortunate response to her own personal past trauma that she internally runs through all of the self-doubt: She’s upset because of me. I did something wrong.

So, Kim decides to ask quite drowsily, “Did I say something wrong earlier, do something to upset you?” She can’t even remember what conversations they’d had before bed, but she nevertheless wants to know if she’s done something wrong so she can correct her own errors. “I don’t mean to make this about me, or anything, but if I did do something wrong—“

“No,” Lydia is quick to interrupt her, but then she elaborates more carefully afterwards, adding, “Of course not, Kim. I swear, that’s not it. You… you haven’t done anything wrong at all. It’s not you, by any means.” Her response sounds like an honest attempt to sound reassuring, but the way her voice cracks as she gets the words out is just heartbreaking. “No, it’s just… it’s just nightmares.”

Kim can feel a sympathetic stirring within her chest, an empathetic ache for her lover’s sorrow and pain, though she does not know what has brought up such vulnerable emotions. “Come here,” Kim murmurs, rolling onto her back and patting the bed immediately beside her. “Let me hold you.”

Kim welcomes Lydia with open arms when she sidles up to her, vulnerable as ever. She can feel Lydia’s body shaking as softly weeps, her breathing noticeably erratic as it would be during panic. Of course, Kim holds her close without any hesitation, pressing a kiss to the top of her head and idly running her fingers through her long, silky hair. It’s times like this that she wishes she had the words to say more comforting things, but that’s where things like touch come in handy, perhaps. It’s moments before Kim speaks to her again, and she does so in a way that’s compassionate, doting even — her words are chosen carefully, a deliberate expression of love in the caring tone she uses.

“What was the nightmare about? You can talk to me about it, if you want to.”

There’s hesitation before Lydia responds, and she looks up to Kim with apprehension in her eyes, like she fears judgment over talking about her nightmare. “I was a young girl again, and I was back in the group home I grew up in. It’s like I was trapped. The girls I roomed with were attacking me for… I don’t even know what, but they hated me and wanted me dead,” Lydia murmurs with tears in her eyes. Leaning the weight of her petit form against Kim, she lets out a quivering sigh, continuing, “I know that probably sounds stupid. I… I don’t tend to talk to people about these sorts of things. Not ever.”

Eyebrows furrowing, Kim’s quick to shake her head, tenderly running her fingers through Lydia’s hair. “Hey, that’s not stupid at all. I mean, I can’t even imagine how shitty that must’ve been for you.”

Lydia sighs, her hands idly playing with the fabric of Kim’s pajama shirt; it’s an old shirt left over from college that’s been worn so many times that it’s ideal for sleeping in. It seems that Lydia quite likes the texture of the shirt as well, bunching the end of the shirt up in her small fist while she continues. “God, it was the worst place I’ve ever been, to this day. The staff was so strict, and all of the girls there were so cruel. I never made a single friend in that place — not permanently, at least. Everyone I got along with eventually got foster homes. I never did. I don’t know why, but I just wasn’t desirable enough to be a foster kid.”

“I’m so sorry. That must’ve been horrible, growing up in a place like that.” There had been a few times where Kim’s mother had skirted dangerously close to losing custody of Kim, being drunk as she’d been — she’d never ended up in the system, though. She never experienced anything like what Lydia’s been through, and even without hearing the details Kim is able to surmise that it was traumatic for Lydia. “Did you spend your whole childhood there?”

“Essentially” Lydia replies softly, her breathing somewhat stable now that she’s gotten into the rhythm of conversation. She’s still quite apprehensive, though, and it’s evident when she speaks. adding, “I was a smart kid. I don’t mean to brag, of course, but I was able to finish high school early and get a scholarship, and I left when I was seventeen. I never turned back.”

Kim leans in closer, placing a tender kiss upon Lydia’s forehead. “I’m glad you’re out of there now,” she says. “

“Thank you. I know it’s been years since I was in that situation, but I guess my subconscious just loves reminding me of how horrible my childhood was,” Lydia replies, sniffling and shuddering. She clings to Kim tightly, as if she’s afraid her lover might disappear if she were to let go. “I really didn’t mean to wake you up. I feel like such an asshole.”

“You certainly aren’t an asshole,” Kim reassures her.

Lydia adjusts her position in bed, shifting so that she’s face-to-face with Kim. She kisses her with soft lips, affectionately short and sweet. “I’m so glad you’re here right now. I don’t know what I’d do without you,” she says, and being so close to one another, Kim can feel Lydia’s body beginning to relax somewhat when she continues to speak. “Thank you for spending the night with me.”

“There’s nowhere I’d rather be,” Kim tells her, and she means it.

[newsiegirlscout]

Sometimes when there are two things that I love very much, I put them together and achieve serotonin.

Tinker Bell x Tangled, high fluff ahead; a oneshot featuring a highly kintsugi narrative. Ah, the irony of having written this earlier and having the ending eaten by Tumblr, thus resulting in the story's own rebuilding--and crying, a lot of crying.

It had been a long day, and when the tinker sparrowman showed up, Quirin suspected the trials of dustkeeping advisor were still long from over.

"Fly with you, Quirin!", he greeted, wings fluttering softly with excitement, "I don't suppose you still have this week's ration? I got, ah, a little caught up with a new idea, you know how it goes." 

He chuckled sheepishly, but before the elder could so much as get to the right name in the leafbook checklist, the tinker had unrolled a new ink-smudged diagram from his bag. 

"It's going to really help the harvest talents! If we just put irrigation lines here, here, and here", he said, gesturing to a few places on the diagram, "Then we can counteract the alkalinity of the soil with this compound--oh, and if we add just a pinch of a common leavening agent, they won't have to worry about crossbreeding stronger stems!" 

Varian's wings glowed a soft tangerine with pride as Quirin spread it out carefully on the counter. When the tinker had first Arrived, and the first mutters had soon after reached the Dust Tree, he had assumed his enthusiastic disposition and friendly chatter were a ploy to win him over in defense, or perhaps get more dust; it wouldn't have been a first. But by the autumn harvests, he had relentedly admitted to himself that Varian simply had too much excitement to share and too few friends to share it with. In spite of himself, Quirin must have taken on a warmer attitude towards him and started listening more attentively to his plans somewhere along the line.

"Varian", he said softly, his hand not leaving the dust ration just yet, "The harvest faeries are growing butterfly weed by the second line. You'll cut right through the roots. And where do you think you're getting this? The rings?"

"'s okay, I'm using supplejack vines." he countered, waving it off, "Those wrap around other vines or roots without bothering them too much. Annnnd, I just found these by the mainland..." 

With a fluttering hop and too much fidgeting with the grass ties on his bag, Varian proudly held out one of many eyelets, perfect for irrigation. 

Quirin gave the high-spirited tinker a pat on  the back. "So long as you're careful, boy. Get one of the water talents to reinforce your goggles--and you might as well ask them to bring the rest of the talents as well." 

"Thanks, Quirin!" he chirped, sweeping the ration and the blueprints into his bag, "You won't be disappointed, I promise!"

It wasn't until moments after Varian had left that Quirin realized he had implied a use of dust in this compound of his...and that his feet had never left the ground on the way home. 

#################################

When Varian arrived the next week, to say he looked miserable would be to say his invention had merely not worked as he had planned. 

Dripping wet from his burst goggles to the tips of his sodden wings, he smiled weakly for a moment, then sighed. 

"Soooo it turns out supplejack is flammable." 

"Mm-hmm." Quirin responded, passing him a blanket of moss to dry off with. If he'd had a pinch of pixie dust for every angry harvest talent who'd implored him to withhold the rations in the last week, the tree would never need so much as a grain of blue dust 

The tinker's gaze was focused on the floor, tears welling up in his eyes. "I'd fly backwards if I could." he apologized. As an afterthought, he held up the edge of one damp wing, its costal margin and apex singed. "Well...I'd fly anywhere if I could."

"Not again, Varian." Quirin sighed softly, and the newer arrival's heart sank. 

"Did you ask Rapunzel to heal that for you?" Notable for her ornate golden wings, the lightkeeping guardian should have at least been able to fix the worst of the damage and let the sparrowman fly in a week or so, but he shook his head and wrung out the towel. 

“Sh-she was busy with some of the other faeries, and I-and I didn’t know where else to go. Besides, it, heh, probably won’t be the worst thing if I stay grounded for a little while.”

“Probably not.” he agreed, “It would be a shame to lose my favorite regular, though.”

Varian gave a soft slight smile, followed by a half-second’s wince as his wings protested the attempt at instinctual quavering. “Really, sir?”

“Sure as anything.” Quirin responded, smiling warmly. A moment later, that smile was gone, replaced by a firm hand on his shoulder and a stern glare.

 “It isn’t as though we get a lot of happy visitors nowadays, what with whatever you’re doing with the dust.”

“--alchemy--”

“Varian. Do us both a favor and don’t let me hear any more of it. You’re lucky enough not to have lost your wings this time; I’m legally allowed to withhold or cut dust rations if you manage to find a way to destroy the fields like this again.”

The tinker’s glow burned a brief peach with indignation as he slammed his hands onto the counter. “But alchemy could really help Pixie Hollow! All the last plan needed was a different breed of vine; all the test subjects even showed consistent a-accrescence in response to the solution.”

“The tests are irrelevant if the results aren’t the same when it’s demonstrated. Pixie Hollow can’t have any more harvests destroyed.”

“The fields will grow back stronger than before.” he retorted stubbornly.

“The harvest talents won’t.” Quirin shot back, pinching the bridge of his nose with frustration, “Varian, tinker talents may delight to tear their work down only to build it again better than before, but harvest talents invest their whole livelihoods into their fields. Just the slightest change disrupts the crop yield, and no faerie can afford to push that deadline.”

The sparrowman’s shoulders dropped. “The harvest talents were....rea-really hurt because of...me, weren’t they?”

“I’m afraid so.” the dustkeeper responded gently.

His shoulders trembled, the tears in his eyes finally spilling down his face. "Now win-winter is going to be delayed an-and they'll have to scrap the whole field and-and-and..."

And Quirin wrapped him in a hug affectionate and strong and just loose enough not to jostle his wings and everything was safe if just for a minute.

"Shh, shh", he murmured, his voice a low rumble in his chest. "Though the harvest talents might not forgive you today or tomorrow, they will soon enough. They'll work together to restore what they can, and the fields will be ready to sleep by winter. Hush now, lad, what do tinker talents do best?"

"Tear things down and build them up again better than they were before." he answered quietly.

"So long as you're doing your best to be better today than you were yesterday, think of it as rebuilding. You've got to quit thinking of yourself as scrap when you're simply not off the iron yet."

Varian sniffled, a flicker of a wince as his wings protested his instinctual attempt at fluttering. "I guess repairs to the harvest carts would make a pretty good start, then?"

Quirin gave the tinker talent a firm pat on the back. "I think they'd appreciate it a lot."

"Oh, and Varian?" he called as the other stopped in the doorframe, softly tossing him the dust rations, "If you ever need a patch, I can always make time for a favorite regular."

He caught the bag with a gentle hit to the chest, a grin lighting up his face like a sunbeam. The sparrowman's wings were stilled, but in the last light of the afternoon, his glow was as warm an orange as the dustkeeper had ever seen it.

[artificialqueens]

Galactica, Chapter 11 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: We continue to be honored and thrilled by the responses to this story. Thank you so much to anyone who’s giving us feedback! Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: Courtney’s first day ended less eventfully than it began (thank god), and Violet got a very enticing invite from Pearl.  

This Chapter: Violet prepares for her big date, and we meet a ravishing supermodel.

***

Violet turned on the shower, her delicate hand testing the water, waiting for it to grow hot. She had occupied one of the bathrooms in the apartment, spending the evening on a self-pampering session that had been desperately needed. Who knew that having someone helping her do her job would create twice as much work? It was only the second day of having Courtney in the office, and Violet felt like a babysitter. No wonder her predecessor hadn’t stuck around to train her.

The bathroom was filled with the sweet scent of lavender as Violet had lit several candles.

Violet stepped into the spray, sighing in relief as the hot water beat down on her sore shoulders and back. So much had happened today, everything running around in her head as she released her hair, covered it in a hair mask. No matter how much she tried to keep her thoughts away, they kept turning to Pearl. Violet bit her lip. Pearl had asked her out. Actually asked her out. She turned around, letting the spray wash over her face, a flush creeping into her cheeks as she was aching with arousal. Pearl always tore her apart with a single look, and it was driving Violet insane.

They had been so close in the office, Pearl’s hand so warm on her arm.

Violet bit her lip again, shame washing over her as she reached up and grabbed the shower head, leaning back against the wall. Was she really doing this? Her breath was already coming in short gasps as she spread the folds of her sex, careful not to damage herself with her perfectly manicured nails.

Pearl had smelled so good, ready to eat, sweet as a flower with her own scent lingering just underneath. Violet wanted nothing more than to bury her face in Pearl’s neck, disappear into the other’s hair. Violet knew with certainty that Pearl’s breasts would be perfect, they would fit so well in her hands, taste perfect if she kissed them.

Violet moaned as the spray hit her, her entire body already humming. She wanted Pearl so badly, wanted to get fucked by the blonde like she had never wanted anyone else before.

“F-fuck… Fuck.”

Violet bit her lip hard, the steady and hard spray beating against her making her legs tremble, her tits so full, her nipples so hard they ached as she imagined what Pearl would look like between her legs. Violet clawed at the wall as orgasm hit her, her vision blinding out for a second which made her throw the shower head away, not even the high of her orgasm helping against the ice cold dread collecting in her stomach.

She just had one of the best orgasms of her life thinking about Pearl and Violet had never been more fucked in her life.

***

Katya was humming to herself as she listened to “Dreaming” by Blondie on her headphones, making her way from the elevator to the design department at Galactica. It was Wednesday around lunch and Katya was finished with her half day at the community center.

Katya sneaked into the design department, a big smile on her face when she realized that Trixie was bent over Jovan’s desk, completely gone from the world as he was busy doing the math for the pattern of a dress so it could be sent off to their tailors.

Katya giggled to herself, shushing everyone in the department she made eye contact with before placing her hands over Trixie’s eyes.

“Peek-a-boo, guess who!”

“Argh!” Trixie jumped, his knee slamming into the table he was sitting at. “Fuck!”

“Oh my god, babe, are you okay?”

They could hear laughter from all around them as everyone in the design department had seen the mishap, which made Trixie and Katya laugh as well. Katya giggled as she sat down next to Trixie, giving him a quick kiss.

“Hey…”

“Hey.” Trixie smiled, happy to see Katya who gently patted down his short brown hair, covering Trixie’s emerging bald spot. “What are you doing here?”

“I never see you anymore, so I brought lunch.”

Trixie nodded, stretching a little, his bones popping as he got into a proper upright position.

“I just need to finish this, okay? Then I’ll be there.”

Katya smiled, giving Trixie another kiss. “I’ll be in your office, but don’t take too long, or the food will get cold.” Katya discreetly showed Trixie the inside of her gigantic Hello Kitty bag and Trixie saw not one, not two, but three brown paper bags from McDonald’s.

“You know what, this can wait.”

Trixie's lunch break was spent in his office, Katya’s laptop on the table in front of them, playing Pocahontas as they made their way through the greasy and, frankly, perfect food.

***

“Hieeeee…”

A tall, statuesque blonde with huge hair, amazing pink Louboutins, and a turquoise pencil skirt stood in the doorway.

Courtney looked up, grateful to have a distraction from the lecture she was getting on Violet about meeting protocols. She’d been drilling her about everyone’s refreshment preferences, getting extremely irritated when Courtney couldn’t remember whether Alyssa liked regular or sugar-free Red Bull, and even more annoyed when Courtney suggested that sometimes people’s tastes change, so she’d just bring in a bigger selection.

“Hi, Alaska,” Violet said. “Are those the new samples?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Courtney grinned, eyes lighting up happily. Ah, this was the SVP of Cosmetics that she’d been excited to meet. Which meant that the bag in her hand was full of samples of their new makeup line. Courtney was practically dancing in her seat as she held out her hand.

“Hi! I’m Courtney, Miss Fame’s new assistant!” she chirped, and Alaska turned to her with a bright smile.

“Hello there, Courtney, I’m Alaska. I absolutely adore that top! What a great print!”

Courtney glanced down at her shirt, a fitted button-down in purple paisley for which Violet had already expressed mild distaste.

“Thank you so much,” Courtney said. “And I love your...everything.”

Alaska laughed, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“We’re gonna get along great.”

“Courtney, why don’t you organize the samples and then I’ll show you how to do the swatch cards for Miss Fame,” Violet instructed.

“Okay!” Courtney jumped up enthusiastically.

***

“But that’s crazy! How many do you throw away every day?”

Violet let out an aggravated groan. She was filling Courtney in on how she could best make sure she always had fresh, hot coffee on hand for Miss Fame. Only Courtney didn’t seem to appreciate the advice at all. Actually, she just seemed horrified.

“It’s not about how many we throw away,” Violet snapped. “It’s about always being prepared.”

“She can’t wait 10 minutes for coffee when she wants it?” Courtney folded her arms, a skeptical expression on her face.

“No!” God, why must Courtney be such a child?

“Well...I mean, I’m not trying to judge you, but I can’t do that in good conscience. The waste would keep me up at night. You must be throwing away at least 10 cups every day. Right?”

Violet glared at her, trying to resist the strong desire to trip Courtney up on purpose, when the phone rang.  

“Miss Fame’s office.” Violet pressed the phone in between her shoulder and ear.  “Oh, hello Roxy.” Violet tapped away at her computer. “Yes, yes she’s here. No, Fame is in a meeting with Raja-”

Courtney had wanted to duck beneath her desk when Raja had walked into their office earlier that day, a large folder under her arm, her steps filled with a level of authority that quite frankly scared Courtney. She would be terrified of Raja, if it wasn’t for the fact that Ivy was always right behind her, the redhead's gentle smile like a balm on Courtney’s frazzled nerves.

“We’ll make space for her right away.”

“Space?” Courtney hadn’t meant to reveal that she was listening in on Violet’s conversation.

Violet shot her an ice cold look, doing a zip it gesture with her fingers, and Courtney immediately shut up. As soon as she hung up, however, Courtney couldn’t keep her mouth closed any longer.

“Is Fame getting a visitor? Who is it? Is it someone famous?!”

“Fluff the pillows,” Violet pointed at the cream couch as she straightened up the magazines on the coffee table. “Quickly, please, Raven hates if they’re not perfectly-”

“Raven?!” Courtney squealed. “Raven Petruschin?!”

“Is there anyone else by that name on the approved list?” Violet shot her a glance, and it was in that exact moment that they were interrupted.

“My my my.”

Courtney turned around to see a stunning woman leaning against the doorframe. She had some of the most perfect lips Courtney had ever seen, her nude lipstick effortlessly accentuating how pillowy soft they looked. She had steel grey eyes, long black straight hair cascading down her back.

“What have we here?” She was wearing a beige bodycon dress, the fabric hugging her in all the right places. She pushed away from the frame, putting her black Chanel sunglasses in her hair, a Birkin bag dangling from her wrist. She smiled, the diamonds in her ears catching the light.

“Hello Raven. What a pleasant surprise.” Violet smiled as she straightened her back. “Can I get you a refreshment?”

“Oh. Yes please.” Raven walked right past Courtney, not even acknowledging her existence as she sat down on the couch, leaning against the pillow Courtney had just fluffed. “I’m on a rehydration diet so water would be great. Non-tap, of course. Evian if you have it, with a couple of lime slices.”

“Coming right up.” Violet nodded and disappeared into the tiny kitchenette that was connected to their office.

“Oh my gosh, you’re… you’re Raven….” Courtney’s mouth hung open, complete awe on her face as she watched the tall, dark-haired woman sit on the sofa.

“Who are you?”

“My name is Courtney!” Courtney smiled brightly as she stood up, extending her hand towards Raven for a handshake which Raven reluctantly took. “I’m Miss Fame’s new assistant; Violet is training me!”

“Ah.” Raven took Courtney’s hand in hers. Her skin was incredibly soft, her manicure done to perfection and Courtney had to resist the desire to stroke it. “I’m Raven. but I guess you already knew that…” Raven smiled, her perfect face even more beautiful as she released Courtney’s hand.

“Are you kidding me? Seriously, oh my gosh. I admire your work so so much!”

“Is that so?” Raven asked.

“Yes! In year 7, I had one of your Vogue covers in my locker! You’re such an icon, I always wanted to be just like you when I grew up!”

Raven’s eyes narrowed slightly, breaking out into an icy smile; there was nothing more irritating to her than being reminded of her rapidly waning 20s. She instantly decided that she absolutely hated this cheap blonde.

“And look at you now,” she said smoothly. “Right in the thick of it.”

“Yes, well…” Courtney laughed nervously. “It’s not quite like being Karl Lagerfeld's favorite muse, but we all gotta start somewhere, right?”

Raven surveyed her critically, determined to find a flaw and to her delight, finding several. Too talkative, too short, too blonde, too...fucking eager.

“Indeed. And if Fame sees something in you...well, then I’m sure you have a very bright future.” Violet returned with the water, which Raven took with a small smile and an air kiss to Violet’s cheek.

Courtney looked like a child on Christmas day, joy etched into her expression.

“Is the meeting done soon? I’ve tried texting Raja, but she hasn’t replied yet…” Raven almost pouted, a hint of annoyance playing in her voice.

“Let me check for you.” Violet smiled up at Raven, all pleasant manners and perfect politeness. “Ah. The meeting is almost over, so I’m sure Raja will be with you shortly-”

Just then, the door to Fame’s office opened to reveal Ivy, who shot an apologetic smile at them.

“Violet!” Fame’s voice traveled into the office. “Violet come in here!”

Violet grabbed her notebook, already standing up but she had apparently been too slow, since Fame was already at the door.

“Why are you not ready, Violet? Do you have anything more important to do-” Fame trailed off. “Raven! Hello dear. What are you doing here? Have we kept you waiting? Violet, you know Raven is on the approved list, why is she waiting?”

“Raven wante-”

“It’s my fault!” Raven quickly stepped in, a sweet smile on her face.

“Princess, is that you?”  Raja appeared in the door, her entire face lighting up when she saw Raven, and quickly went over to kiss her.

Raven put her arms around Raja’s neck, the two women locking lips for way longer than what was appropriate in a workplace environment. Courtney’s mouth dropped open in disbelief.

“Hey.” Raven smiled, her fingers curled in the cobalt blue of Raja’s silk shirt. “I’m here to take you out for lunch.”

“Are you now?” Raja smirked, amusement clear in her face.

Courtney was completely enthralled, watching the two gorgeous women stand so close together their chests were touching, Raja’s hands resting on Raven’s hips.

“I guess we do have something to celebrate.”  

“You two are too much.” Fame sighed, but she was clearly happy, Courtney barely recognizing the relaxed expression on her boss’s face.

Courtney heard a ding from her computer, and it was in that moment that she had realized Violet was furiously DM’ing her on the company network, telling her in increasingly frustrated messages to look away and not intrude on the conversation of their direct superiors.

“Can’t I be interested in spending lunch with my fiancée?”

Fame stopped, and then, Courtney saw the weirdest thing yet at Galactica.

“Oh my god!” Fame jumped up and down, clapping her hands. “Raja, oh!” Fame ran over, throwing her arms around Raja and Raven, hugging them both close. “Oh congratulations, my darling!”

Raja laughed, and if Courtney hadn’t been so caught up in following the scene like it was a bizarre improv piece, she would have noticed Violet blushing before she quickly ducked her head, very pointedly looking anywhere but at the scene in front of them.

“Why didn’t you tell me?!” Fame kissed Raja’s cheek, a laugh leaving her. “Let me see the rings! Quickly!”

Raven held out her hand, and Fame grabbed it. Courtney hadn’t noticed it when Raven walked in, but it was true that she was wearing a stunning diamond with a platinum band, her manicure actually matching it perfectly now that she was paying attention.

“It’s custom made.” Raven sighed, happiness radiating from her while Raja chuckled.

“You know what they say, happy wife, happy life.”

“Urg. Marry me before you resort to cliches.”

“I fully intend to.” Raja put her arm around her waist, Fame still holding Raven’s hand in her own.

Raven rolled her eyes before she turned her attention to Fame, though the smile didn’t budge from her face.

“Wait until you see Raja’s, Fame.” Raven leaned her head on her fiancée’s shoulder. “At first, she told me she didn’t want a ring-”

Raja shrugged, the argument clearly one that had already been rehashed between them.

“But I told her, I told her that if I’m getting a ring, so is she. I can’t  have anyone thinking she isn’t taken.”

“Anyone who has been online knows she’s not.” Fame smiled. “So, any big plans for the wedding yet?”

“Oh I’ve barely even thought about it,” Raven said with a wink, everything about her very clearly telling that she was lying through her teeth.

Fame laughed loudly. “Get out of here you two-” She waved her hand, clearly dismissing them. “Actually-” Fame paused. “Raja, take the day off.”

“But what about the work-”

“That can wait.” Fame touched Raja’s elbow. “This is the first time you’ve gotten engaged.”

“You mean only time she’s getting engaged.” Raven threw her hair over her shoulder,  leaving the office while Raja hung back to gather her things.

“Call that journalist who wanted that interview and tell them I need an extra 10 minutes.”

“Yes Miss!”

Fame turns to leave.”Oh, and Courtney?”

“Yes Miss?”

“It’s impolite to stare. That’s all.” Fame went into her office, closing the door.

Courtney’s eyes bulged. Had she been staring? She was just so surprised.

She had no idea that Raja was even gay, and now she found out that she was engaged? To a supermodel? It was thrilling! But the thought that anyone noticed her reaction was so embarrassing. She turned to Violet, hoping for some reassurance, but found no such thing, the brunette glaring at her venomously.

“I am going to kill you,” Violet proclaimed.

***

“Violet?” Max knocked on her door. “Violet are you in there?”

Max had only meant to be a good neighbor when he had grabbed Violet’s package from the reception, the brown box too big for her to carry on her own, but it seemed like she wasn’t home, and now he had the dilemma of what he should do with the box, since he couldn’t just leave.

Max was just about to give up, when the door opened, the sight of Violet in nothing but a cream silk robe, heels and lace underwear greeting him.

“Oh thank God!”

Before Max knew it, Violet had grabbed his hand and pulled him inside.

“I need your help.”

“My help?” Max put the box down. He hadn’t been inside of Violet’s apartment since the housewarming, and nothing had changed except for a set of curtains that Max knew had haphazardly been put up by Katya.

“Which dress should I wear?”

It was then that Max noticed three dresses that had been hung up over the bathroom door.

“Oh.” Max looked at them. He knew Violet had exquisite taste in clothes, the assistant one of his favorite Galactica employees to watch, but seeing her date night options side by side was a pleasure in itself.

“So you’re going to the Vogue Fashion Fund?”

“I am.” Violet slipped out of her robe and hung it up on the door handle. From anyone else, the move could have seemed sexual, but Violet had been on shoots with Max, and had seen with her own eyes how he normally behaved around naked woman, so it wasn’t too weird. Max was pretty sure Violet assumed he was gay, and even though that wasn’t the truth, he wasn’t going to tell her that it was more that he wasn’t interested in anyone period.

“And you’re going with Pearl?”

“She’s picking me up in an hour.” Violet smiled.

Max bit his lip. He knew that Violet liked Pearl, really liked Pearl.

It was written all over her entire face every time she looked at the blonde, how she would blush and stammer; how shy she could get. Pearl was the only one Max knew who could make Violet lose the air of pleasant politeness, and he was pretty sure that Pearl had no idea about her power.

Max loved Pearl with all his heart, he would go through fire for her, but Pearl wasn’t a good person when it came to how she treated women.

Max had seen Pearl parade girl after girl around, had seen model after model getting their heart broken, how Pearl could treat a girl like a queen one day and completely ignore her the next.

But if Pearl had invited Violet out, that had to mean something, even if Max wasn’t sure what.

“So, which one do you like?” Violet held two of the dresses up, one of them a silver knee length number with a fitted skirt, while the other was a delightful light pink with long sleeves and flowy details.

Max wanted to tell Violet how Pearl could also be, but as he looked at her face, as he saw the genuine enthusiasm, he just couldn’t do it.

“What about the silver?”

“You think?” Violet took it down from the door and slipped into it, the dress fitting her like a glove.

“You look stunning.” Max walked behind her, grabbing the zipper and zipping her up.

Violet was old enough to make her own mistakes, and maybe, just maybe Violet was what Pearl needed.

***

“Violet, come on! We’re going to be late, the car is waiting!” Pearl checked her bag one last time. Phones, press badges, wallet and camera.

Pearl had already made a deal with one of her photographer friends and brought some of his red carpet pictures, so she didn’t have to worry about that, but a good journalist never went anywhere without the proper equipment, and there wasn’t much Pearl actually excelled at.

“Violet!” Pearl knocked again, harder this time. “Violet! Now!”

Pearl was beyond excited to take Violet on a night out. Fashion Fund tickets weren’t exactly easy to come by, so when one had dumped into her lap, she knew exactly who she had wanted as her plus one.

Pearl loved watching Violet enjoy fashion, the way her eyes lit up, the way she smiled, the way it was the only thing she could go on and on about.

Pearl wanted to share that with Violet, and if this meant that Violet would finally see her as someone who was taking her seriously, that would only be a bonus.

“I’m coming, I’m coming.”

Pearl was just about to make a sex joke, when Violet opened the door, and Pearl felt the breath get knocked from her lungs.

Viole was absolutely beautiful, a vision in pale purple and sparkling silver. Her long black hair was artfully curled, a single hair clip holding the locks away from her face. Her usual light pink lipstick was replaced with a daring red, and Pearl wanted to kiss her

“I can’t really run in these.” Violet gestured to her shoes, her usual black Louboutins exchanged with a silver Jimmy Choo. “Do I look okay?”

Violet stopped in front of Pearl, turning around to show off her outfit.

Pearl nodded, still slightly lost for words.

“Oh thank God.” Violet smiled, clearly relieved. “I was worried I’d be too casual or too formal, but judging from the gown you have on.” Violet grabbed her jacket from the hook on the door and pulled it on, taking a step out of the door which made Pearl take one back.

“You, umh, you look really beautiful…” Violet blushed and Pearl laughed, Violet’s insecurity and her quick, almost tumbling way of talking endlessly entertaining.

Pearl kissed Violet’s cheek, careful not to smudge her lipstick.

“Seems like I’ll be the luckiest girl at the party,” Pearl smiled.

“Why?”

“Because I’ll have you as my date.”

[seb-owns-these-tatas]

Chapter 2 (Winter’s Gem) (B.Barnes AU)

CHAPTER 1

Characters: Gigolo!Bucky Barnes x You (AU)

Summary: Bucky Barnes has been scouted by your boss in Felicity Night, you were just a mere young, cleaner in Felicity night and have been living in the basement of the club for all your life. He's the most wanted Gigolo in the city, and taking him away from eager, thirsty women seemed to be impossible especially if he chose to be a Gigolo as his way of living.

Warning: Profanities. Profanities. Inappropriate words.

Words: 5,507.

A/N: This chapter is long as heck. I'm sorry? XD (We shall twerk because this was a long chapter! *twerks*) Sorry for the typos and wrong grammars if there is. :) HELLO WINTER ;) 

Disclaimer: PNG's, pictures and GIFs aren't mine. However, the whole series, one shots and edits are from moi.

TAGLISTS: @yn-the-reader​

Another day, another laborious night in the club. The difference today was that it was the holiday and there was even more people than the usual. You were glad you've taken the spot in the men's bathroom because there were lesser people who come in often more than the women's bathroom.

Plus, the men's bathroom was filthier because it has been days that you haven't gotten the chance to clean it.

You were cleaning the mirrors with a cloth and a can of glass cleaner. Spots of dirt and a mixture of dried toothpaste was drawn, scouring them off the mirror with your cloth.

"Nice set last night, Stevie." You lightly teased, scrubbing the dirt away. The joke sent at the handsome, brawny blonde man taking a piss in one of the black cubicles. You told him it was fine to take a piss using the urinals since it didn't matter but he refused to, mumbling about how modest he was which you didn't bother listening about.

You heard him spoke from the cubicle, hearing the sound of a zipper and running water. He was taking a piss alright, "I was forced to strip last night! I never wanted to!" Steve exclaimed, voice raising a pitch higher as it echoed around the bathroom. You were now scrubbing the sinks with detergent and a mix of Clorox. The salty drop of sweat fell on your forehead and you were quick to swipe it off with your arm.

"You looked like you were having fun, though." You huffed with a smile, scrubbing the sink with a sponge. Your nose getting a whiff of the strong, acidic smell from the Clorox, but your face never once scrunched because you were already used to the foul smell.

"I was not! Stripping in front of people is outrageous! If it weren't for the tips and the double pay that you guys have been telling me, I wouldn't take the slot!"

"But, I wanna know something..." You dragged on, a hint of playfulness in the tip of your tongue plus a small smirk to add to your reply, "Was the spandex comfortable to wear, Captain Rogers? Doesn't it look a little too tight?" You laughed when you heard him groan, the sound of the toilet flushing came with it, giving you a sign that he was finished pissing.

After watering a small plant of Aloe Vera, you tidied everything up. Hearing the cubicle door creak slightly, you glanced back to see Steve without his coat on, baby blue eyes that looked gorgeous with his ears slightly turning red from the realization that you have seen him strip in his star spangled suit.

"Hey, Kid..Aren't you a little young to watch me..strip?" He strolled beside you, turning the tap open, washing his hands. His ears became redder than the usual and you couldn't help the laugh that escaped your lips.

"I'm 21! Not 15! Don't act like I've never known you since the last three years!"

Steve's ears was now redder as the conversation continued, like a kid who have been embarrassed by seeing his mother and dad having sex, that kind of embarrassment. The blonde man placed his hands below the air dryer, hearing a quiet click before it began blowing hot air for his hands to dry. He spoke through the loud whush, "Kids like you should still be studying, Y/N." His hands were now dry, he leaned his hip on the sink in front of you, gorgeous blue eyes fixated on yours, empathy itching his heart. He knew how you felt about not finishing your degree, not even having the chance to study in your first year. Steve was your friend, and he knew every last detail of your life. He couldn't stop the tempting frown etching to let show. "You shouldn't be working in a club full of..Gigolos and strippers. You deserve to have a future and not get locked up in this..this damn hell house,"

You smiled indifferently, "Language, Rogers." Steve gave you a sympathetic smile, bringing his hand up your shoulder and giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Think about what I've said, Y/N. You know i'm willing to help," His baby blue eyes locked on yours, and you were the first to look away..You've thought about his help, but you were still hesitant and you didn't want to accept his offer of paying your tuition fees especially that he was just a friend of yours.

What would you mother even think about that? Olivia/Luscia would be livid to find out that Steve was helping you be what you wanted to be. The news will spread around so fast, people would think he was your sugar daddy or something..

Even so, you didn't want Steve to have that responsibility because it was your mother's. She was working for so long, so that meant she could afford to help pay your tuition fees.

"I'll..think about it, Steve. Thank you," You uttered quietly, gazing up at his bright, baby blues. He shook his head, sending you a gorgeous smile of his that everyone loved. "For what?"

You beamed, completely pleased by his loving attitude towards you. Y/N took a cautious step forward, weakly wrapping her feeble arms around him. "For being such a great friend..Thank you, Steve." Steve gladly took her arms in, gently shoving her head in his chest, giving her back warm, comforting pats.

It wasn't long for you to hear a silent creak of the door, immediately you began unwrapping your arms around Steve once you heard the person come in. The club's sound faintly sliding in the men's bathroom. You heard the gentle clicks on this particular person's shoe tapping on the black granite floor, slowly getting louder, walking towards where you and Steve were. You felt the warm presence of the man towering behind you.

That precious smile on your face hadn't wash off yet, you guessed it was Sam or Clint who disrupted your conversation with Steve and the smile on your face grew wider at the thought of Clint. He owed you ten bucks because he lost on a bet that involved Steve, betting that he wouldn't take the Stripper slot. You voted that he would since you were already sure he would strip that night because he have talked to you about it..

"Jerk," Steve grinned at the man behind you, "Punk," The man rasped, his voice entirely indistinguishable.It sounded deep and velvety. He surely doesn't sound like Sam or Clint. But, you could tell by his voice that this unknown man was smiling by the mention of his endearment for Steve that came out of his lips.

You couldn't help but tilt your head at one side, figuring out who he was. Brows slightly furrowed, trying hard to familiarize whose voice it came from. You couldn't get an idea.."A blonde dame's looking for you, Pal. Did you take a shit or what?" The man chuckled deeply, sounding like the angels sang from up above. You didn't know why your heart skipped a beat when you heard him chortled so velvety, so alluring..

Even without looking at him, your guessed he was attractive as hell. Maybe he was someone new? Well, he needed a warm welcome then.

You plastered your best smile for the anonymous man, loudly clearing your throat, your palms flattening the wrinkles of your uniform. "Remember Y/N? The young girl that I was telling you about who was working here? Olivia's/Luscia's only daughter? One of my closest friends here in Felicity Night?"

You enthusiastically turned the heels of your foot to welcome the man who sounded attractive. Maybe welcoming new people wasn't really a good idea? when you spun around, you felt your breath hitch as it got caught in your throat. All you saw was a pair of gorgeous Steele blue eyes that made your mouth turn agape. They were the most beautiful out of all the sea of blues you've ever seen. You were completely stupefied when you slowly process everything in, "Bucky, This is Y/N Y/L/N, The hardest worker of all time, she's been cleaning all her years in this club and I'm proud of how strong this kid have been," Steve paused and you felt him cup your shoulder, proudly introducing you to his best pal. "Y/N. This is Bucky. Bucky Barnes. My brother from another mother. I think you've already heard all the intriguing gossips about this punk," Pause. "--Women call him 'Winter', but his close friends of him don't,"

Winter. You mentally gasped. He was the 'Winter' that Stan told you about. God, you were completely speechless. Stan was right all along. He was one charming, gorgeous, handsome fucker.

Thump. Your heartbeat seemed unnaturally loud in your ears. You could feel the overwhelming warmth seep through you once you completely planted your E/C eyes at Bucky's stunning blue eyes. Your words seem to get stuck in your throat.

You blinked and swore that you saw something flash behind those eyes of his, showing deep interest towards you. He initially smiled, a picturesque, cheeky smile lifted for you to see and engrave in your mind forever.

You felt as if you were drowning in his sea, feeling like you couldn't breath because of how beautiful he looked. Bucky had his brunette hair in a bun, you guessed he had long hair that could reach his jaw because his bangs that were parted in the middle have fallen and cascaded on either side of his face. It simply accentuated the marvelous structures of his face, bringing out the best of his apple-like cheekbones.

Oh, were his cleft chin so perfect that you wanted nothing but to touch and press them together, showing how you can appreciate how handsome he looked with it.

Not to mention his plump, beet red lips that seemed to be moisturized all the time. Shit, you're definitely digging your own grave by liking a Gigolo. The newest recruited gigolo if you were going to be specific.

Your abusive, brusque mother warned you, cursing at the heavens that she would have to lock you away if ever you had a relationship with one of them. You didn't know the reason why but she seemed to hate the idea, even though you were a daughter that came from a stripper. Your father have been one and now he was nowhere to be found because he left you both to marry a very wealthy old woman in replacement of your mother, Olivia/Luscia.

"You can call me Bucky," He uttered with a low voice that could be considered sexy and hot. You wanted to pinch yourself, and you actually did secretively. Bucky could see the flash of awareness in your eyes, an awareness that seemed to held the same feeling as his. Yet, those awareness that made him confident was now lost in just a blink, replaced with a polite reserve.

Bucky thought he was imagining things, but the way you fluttered your eyelashes up at him, giving him those heart eyes and a blush that climbed up your cheeks corrected his disappointed theory.

"Good evening...Bucky," You stuttered quietly, gnawing on your trembling lips. His presence was making you conscious and insecure because he was too gorgeous for your own good.

This was dangerous. He was dangerous.

'when you get your heart involved,' You remembered what your old friend, Stan said. As if you would even get your heart involved..

That was a question that seem shaky and untruthful. This was bad. Your breath shook when you gave out a sigh.

The both of you heard a clap that distracted your reverie, "Ooookay!" Steve piped in rather enthusiastically. Weirdly eyeing the both of you. "Introduction's done now. It's up to you if you wanna be friends or maybe get to know each other more. I'm off! A dame needs my patriotic presence," Steve bid goodbye, never forgetting to slap a hand on Bucky's back, making the latter chuckle and send him a wave of his hand. Your blonde friend waving a friendly hand at you as he trotted towards the exit.

That was interesting.

Bucky and you were left in the bathroom. The awkward, heavy silence trapping you both. Your heart was running a mile, and your mind was trying to think of a conversation that would spike up the current cloud that you were in. You could still feel his eyes on you, probably starting to bore holes in your face. You kept looking anywhere else besides his handsome features, doing it seems impossible because his face was satisfying to stare at.

However, you tried hard. Your toes curled inside your shoes, feeling all the heat come at your face. You needed to get out of here, you mentally thought. You needed to take a breather, you needed to come up in that sea you were drowning in.

Bucky mindlessly licked his lips out of habit, and it wasn't a movement that didn't go unnoticed by you. "So.." He slowly dragged on, gathering his thoughts and wording it all out, thinking about words that could sound good to hear, "How old are ya', Doll?"

Doll. That sounded so sweet. You couldn't help but curl your toes further, totally stuck up in your place. "21," Even though, it was meant to be ignored. You saw Bucky sigh after that, pursing his lips before a cheeky smile was replaced. "How about you, Bucky?"

A tiny voice was cheering at the back of your head. Loudly screaming '25! 25! 25! 25!' But those voices were ceased when you felt his finger lift your head up to meet with his Steele blue eyes that shifted from intense to soft and tender.

You could feel your insides melting so bad.

"Your eyes are pretty, Doll. I want them on me whenever we have a conversation," The man was definitely a charmer with his words too. That made everything difficult for you to process. Bucky wanted nothing more than to see how your heart worked, he wanted to see the real you. A thought inside his brain, secretly hoping that you weren't like one of the women he'd been with. Women who had paid for him, women who had rotten hearts, and only cared for what they feel. Not his. "The words coming out of your mouth seems fake when I don't get to see your beautiful E/C eyes,"

He abruptly dropped his finger beneath your chin like he was burned. It was too early. Too damn early to get involved with a woman who was nearly half his age. Fuck. He cursed inside his mind, giving himself a punishment by biting his tongue as he continued his next words. "35," Yet, Bucky didn't seem to mind the age-gap. He was mesmerized by how big your heart was. You seemed to stand-out in his eyes and he couldn't grasp why, it was frustrating him.

You weakly nodded in understanding while Bucky felt a tiny dismay because of your reaction. Were you disappointed? Why was he even thinking about it when you just literally met him today?

Get your shit together, Barnes. You're being a creep. He mentally thought, chewing on his bottom lip.

There was a flash of glitter in your eyes as you thought about question that has been bugging you and your old friend, Stan. Since you wanted to get to know more about Bucky better, you needed to make some efforts in doing so. You gave him a sweet smile that he immediately saw, wanting those precious smile of yours to be remembered since he knew you didn't smile a lot for the past few months. "Can I ask you a question, Bucky?"

"Shoot. We're already playing the 20 questions game, Y/N."

Your smile reached up your eyes and it felt good to finally smile like the world wasn't pouring you rocks and gravels. "Why were you--"

Your heart skipped a beat, and it was not in a blushing way. You both heard the door harshly opened, the music of the club walking in and a very rough looking Olivia/Luscia welcoming you both in the doorway. It gave you a bad heart attack, or probably giving you a reason not to live after seeing how blank your mother's face was when she saw you with Bucky.

You couldn't see what was running inside her mind. It seemed unreadable and impossible to get into. "Y/N," She deadpanned, glowering at you. "Barnes," Her voice turned much more normal, but her face still looked stoic as her eyes settled at the man in front of you.

Bucky could feel the unwavering fright radiating off you. He knew it. He saw your hands tremble from fear as his eyes deliberately trailed towards your shaking hands.

You took a cautious step back away from Bucky, gulping the fear that erupted.. all the way down your throat. Glancing up a Bucky to mentally apologize for even talking to him and it made him wrinkle his forehead, furrowing his brows, looking like he was in deep thought. "Y/N, Rhodes needs you. Get your ass back in the kitchen!"

Your eyebrows instantly rose up in question, "W-What?" You thought you weren't needed anymore. You didn't even like staying in the kitchen because all of your arms were covered in scars. Basically from the kitchen accidents and scars that were kind of from all your mother's doing.

Olivia/Luscia could feel her anger boil up and it wasn't good because she was beginning to feel the inexorable itch in her hands. The God forsaken itch that Y/N was hoping to not be a repeated victim of. "What do you mean what, Y/N?"

"I-I've been covered in boils--" Before you could even stop your mouth, you had slapped a hand over it. Stopping yourself from even saying further that could put you in danger.

Bucky wanted nothing more than to shake you off your fear, he wanted nothing more than to stop those horrible scenes that was bound to happen because he knew what was about to happen next.

"What did I fucking tell you about talking back and complaining?!"

Your mother's calm demeanor was now changed into fury, and you know nothing but to quickly follow her. Thus, which is why you scrambled off your place in front of Bucky and felt your legs shake with each step you took away from the man who had made an impression.

You hurdled under Olivia/Luscia's arm, scurrying away. Gone in a hot second and Bucky was left alone.

Olivia/Luscia turned her back away from the door, not even bothering to give Bucky a second look once she saw you with him. He was a threat to you, definitely a threat.

As he began to hear the door creak, he couldn't stop the scowl on his face as he mentally threw knives at her back. Why the hostility?

It's because he knew everything.

Just like a sniper..He could see everything even though he was far.

The orders began to lessen one by one, you were tempted to hail hallelujah once the scorching heat began fading around the kitchen. You didn't even know why you were called when Sharon and an extra helper was there. A helper named Phil Coulson who was so industrious and nice.

You heard your stomach growl and damn were you hungry as hell. The last thing you ate was mashed potatoes with gravy and fresh pickles that were sneaked out of the kitchen, thanks to Steve.

They weren't the greatest thing to be paired together but it was better than having nothing like the most of your days.

"Eww, Stop being gross, Sharon!" Wanda chit-chatted with Sharon in front of the metal table laying in the middle of the huge maroon and white kitchen. People already had their food and it was the final batch that was given from the last ten minutes ago.

You were carrying a tray full of unfinished food, dropping them off with a clang beside the kitchen sink. Your arm was still hurting from the fresh wounds it held. Even though, Phil was around. Rhodes had still given you some time to 'cook those bitches' while he cuts whatever he was cutting.

An unfinished plate of Hushpuppies lay before you, there were five pieces left and you wanted to give that particular customer a karate chop on the head for wasting such a delicious meal.

The whole plate felt like it was a gift from God. You could see the golden swirls surrounding it, tempting you to just finish the damn thing and think how that was more cleaner than the other unfinished foods that laid in front of you. You cussed beneath your breath.

Growl, says your stomach.

Nobody wants a hungry stomach, yes? And so you feed it off to shut it up. You fit every Hushpuppies in your mouth, just like a squirrel protecting his nut. Your mouth looking hideously full.

"Doll," You jerked and slammed your hand on the metal sink when you heard a very familiar voice that could make your heart go gaga. Being lucky with food was probably in your genes because you didn't choke when Bucky had appear beside you like a genie in disguise.

Though, the tiny wrinkle of his nose hurt the dignity left in you. He looked disgusted. Wow, that was the best first impressions. You were such a hopeless and desperate woman.

Yeah, you'd rather hear people saying those kind of things to you, having a label that could hurt your dignity than die in hunger.

"Oh, girl. That was gross," Sharon commented with a cringe. Earning a same response from Wanda. She looked clearly disgusted at the food in your mouth. "Spit it out! Spit it out!"

Rhodes seem to have taken it lighter than those two because he found it quite entertaining after feeding hundreds of bitches. "You have the worst case of feeding your damn hunger, Y/N!"

Phil seemed the find it normal, giving you an apathetic response. He shrugged his shoulders and nodded to himself before he went back to cleaning.

On the other hand, Bucky left your side..walking in between Rhodes and Sharon till he stopped in front of a huge refrigerator. All eyes were fixated on the man who was fishing for something to eat. "Hmm," He quietly hummed, one hand inserted in his trousers. The muscles on his back appearing toned which you had only noticed until now, his hair untied as it gloriously and attractively fell on his broad shoulders. Adding another set of gorgeous facts that made your toes curl beneath you. After a minute of searching for something good, he finally brought out a frozen plum, with a simple spun of his heel, he turned around while he marched towards you, throwing the juicy fruit in the air for a couple of times, landing on his fairly large palms. "Barnes--" Rhodes spoke as Bucky glided through the kitchen. Passing in between him and Sharon.

"Bill that on me!" He walked in front of him and gave him a side-eye, sending Rhodes a cheeky wink. Strutting back in the direction from where you were. You were mindlessly digging crescent lines on your palms from the warm, giddy, overwhelming feeling that you were feeling inside. Why were you reacting that way?

Sure, he was attractive. Okay, maybe too damn attractive. Maybe a little too hot either? Why were you thinking about it now when he's currently strutting in front of you like a model or a sexy stripper who was about to give you a private show?

Did you really thought about that when you only met him hours ago?

"You're damn lucky you're one gorgeous motherfucker, Barnes." Rhodes hissed, fanning himself with his hands when Bucky gave him one of his famous winks. He gave a low chuckle, stopping beside you. Your fairly large height differences was obvious as he leaned his derrière on the metal sink. His warm hand sent sparks to your core once he wrapped his warm, calloused hand around yours. Oh, no. Stop. Taking your hand in his, he dropped the cold plum in your hand, enclosing your fingers with his around it. "I'd rather see you eating this than eat leftovers. We have no idea what you'll get infected with, Y/N."

"Alright. Let me just be the spokesperson for everyone," Wanda chimed, raking her hair in a makeshift ponytail. Using a rubber band as a tie, she parted her ponytail in half, tightening it to make sure it wouldn't fall. She eyed you and Bucky, pointing her nicely, manicured maroon nail at you. "Since when did you two become friends?"

"Uhm," You stuttered, pointing a finger on your chest, pertaining to yourself. The pressure crippling your anxiety bit by bit. Their scrutinizing stares boring holes in your body. "Me?" Sharon's face turned stoic, placing her hands on her perfectly wide hips. "No, not you. Rhodes. Of course, Y/N! You and Barnes?!" She exclaimed, making it sound extremely impossible.

What was wrong?

Bucky could sense the polarity in their minds. He obviously didn't find anything wrong, yet they seem to be complaining. "You guys make it sound like it's impossible for us to be friends,"

A creak of the door made everyone quiet, but after a second of realizing it was just Phil who went out to throw the garbage in the dumps. They continued their discussion.

Wanda raised her brows to prove her point, "Of course it is! Y/N has no friends!" She exclaimed, before an apologetic smile reached her lips. "No offense, Y/N."

You could only nod, their conversation was entertaining you but at the same time, it was throwing you a harsh brick on the face. Were you such a loner? Were you really an anti-social person? You counted your friends inside your head, and Bucky could see you completely out of focus. Mind going elsewhere as you counted how many were they. It made his heart all cozy. You just looked...innocent...and so adorable.

That's what he wanted to say, but he kept his lips sealed. He was probably just slugged from the tequila shots he took.

Sharon crossed her arms against her pliable breasts, a blush creeping towards her cheeks. Slowly making her looked flushed, "Besides Steve, of course. He's a sweetheart. Who isn't even friends with him?" Her voice sounded smaller than the usual and you were curious why she sounded shy all of a sudden. Wanda piped in her train of thoughts, "And Stan, obviously. I think he's her bestest friend out of all of us,"

In a vague corner of Bucky's mind, There was a question inside his head that he so wanted to ask them, a question as to why they sounded so incredulous when he gave Y/N a little bit of his help. "Aren't you guys her friends?"

Everybody went completely still. Phoebe Ryan's song named 'Dark Side' was hardly reaching their ears. That question totally shut them up. Y/N couldn't help but feel how heavy her heart turned out when nobody dared to answer one simple question that can be answered by pre-schoolers. Not even one single person could say 'yes'. She knew why she was left friendless. She knew who was the center of her life, the person who had controlled her life and everyone since birth, and she was scared that she'll soon turn out numb from all the pain that was inflicted towards her. Physically and emotionally.

Rhodes shut his mouth, Wanda began to zip her mouth and Sharon was left thinking about her next words. She opened her mouth to talk, "Even though we want to, her mother doesn't. We're forbidden to. Only the toughest people are friends with her,"

Bucky's eyebrows narrowed, a deep wrinkle forming in between his smooth forehead. Did those words seriously came out of her mouth? Were they seriously scared of her? He couldn't help but snort from their hooey reasons. "You're seriously scared of one woman?" He exclaimed skeptically, his hand reaching to tuck his hair behind his ears. "A woman who asks you to stop befriending one girl? Can you seriously hear yourselves right now?" He exasperated and waited for them to talk, yet nobody was tough enough to talk, he reclined away from the metal sink, absolutely aggravated by how they were fine for letting one woman control their decisions. Leaving an innocent woman alone and friendless just because 'her damn mother' doesn't want to. How can her mother be so immature? What was running inside her head when she asked these people to stay away from her daughter?

"If Steve gets to be her friend, then I can be her friend, Her mother doesn't scare me," Bucky uttered as a matter of fact. He chewed on his bottom lip before focusing on your disheartened form. You were awkwardly fiddling with the ends of your plain white shirt. Head bowed down in dismay, and a plum in your hand. Holding it for dear life. The man in front of you couldn't help but tuck his fingers beneath your chin. He couldn't blame you for acting this way especially that he knew you were physically abused by a person whom he thought will never even lay a finger on her own spawn.

You were met with dazzling Steele blue eyes that peered down at you with softness, "You wanna go eat somewhere, Y/N?" He spoke rather tenderly, a sincere smile lifting his lips that made your heart race a million miles.

This was bad. So bad. Stop. He should stop. You gulped the saliva trapped in your throat, didn't he have any..other woman to tend to? Doesn't he have someone to work on? Customers who needed him? Women who he needed to fuck? "Don't you have...work to do?" You hesitatingly asked. Wording everything much more proper and good to hear. He thought for a second, licking his red, plump lips that made some warmth go through your core. Oh. Damn. Bucky shook his head after, eyes adorably curving like crescent moons. "Nah, Doll. The ladies were all interested for America's flag stripper tonight," He lowly chuckled, "I needed some time off anyway,"

"Uhm," You hesitated on coming with him. If your mother finds you out and about with her best underling, she'll go loco. "I don't know, Bucky." The vexation came back in his head, he knew why you were reluctant. But, you needed to eat right even just for tonight. He had always seen you eating tons of shitty food. There was this urge that he wanted to make it different this time, he wanted you to take care of yourself. He wanted to...

--to take care of you. He discreetly cleared his throat from that. Pulling himself back from reality, "Come on, it's my treat." The comforting, familiar heat wrapped around your hand out of habit. He was holding your hand with his right hand again, gazing down at you with that beautiful blue eyes of his. If he doesn't stop then things will go worse. Things that would probably place your heart in a very vulnerable position.

He smiled very amiably and soft, "Say we continue our 20 questions game?" His voice sounded raspy and sanguine.

You couldn't help but get lost in those Steele blue eyes. Jumping in his sea of orbs that made you want to drown yourself over and over again and you gave zero fucks about it. He was clearly trying to heal your poisoned, wounded heart.

With no control over your emotions, you gave a weak nod. Completely out of your trance and with only one squeeze given to your hand....

You were a goner.

TAGLISTS ARE OPEN, TATER TOTS! Just send me an ask! 

XOXO, 

TATA (SEBASTIAN’S POTATO BITCH)

[white-rose-week]

White Rose Week 2019: That Day on the Airship - Epilogue

Free Day

Self-Given Prompt: Callbacks to Prior Prompts

(Also available on FF and AO3)

Ruby's head popped off of her pillow.

She jumped out of the large, half-empty bed and began preparing for the day with an even wider smile than usual. As she put on her newest combat skirt, she looked at the now entirely empty bed fondly, giggling mirthfully at how tidy Weiss' side was compared to her own. After checking her pockets to ensure she had her scroll and everything else she needed for the day, she exited the room, closing the door behind herself.

Weiss was already downstairs eating breakfast and sending emails.

"I informed the board of directors weeks ago that I would be out today! I even sent them reminders yesterday. Can't they survive twenty four hours without me?!" Weiss mumbled with frustration as she sent off yet another memo to people she would be having stern conversations with tomorrow. Her hostile buyout of the Schnee Dust Company a few months after the defeat of Salem had proven quite simple after a scathing exposé came out detailing numerous labor and ethics violations that the company had committed in the past several years, along with thorough documentation of her father's knowledge and active approval of the violations. An exposé that Weiss most certainly not responsible for compiling and leaking, or at least, that's what she told media outlets that inquired about it. Regardless of who the (obviously noble, talented, and beautiful) person behind it was, it obliterated her father's reputation and sent the company into disarray. From there, leveraging the personal assets she had along with the notoriety from her involvement in the war against Salem, convincing the board of directors to accept her buyout was child's play.

Weiss smirked to herself. Even though running the company was a significant time commitment and she still had some problematic individuals to weed out, it was worth it. The only thing that she held as a higher priority in her life was—

"Good morning!" A singsong voice called out, and Ruby skipped into the kitchen, shattering any SDC-related thoughts from Weiss' mind.

"Good morning, Ruby." Weiss responded, her prior tension melting away as she closed her laptop and stood so she could give Ruby a gentle hug and kiss on the lips. "I'll prepare your coffee." She said, taking her seat again and reaching for the pitcher in the middle of the table.

"Only after I'm done refilling yours!" Ruby said defiantly as she quickly sat down and snatched the pitcher before Weiss could get to it. She gave Weiss a toothy grin as she topped off the white mug on the other side of the table. She was never content with letting Weiss dote on her unless she was able to able to return the favor.

"Very well." Weiss said playfully as she took the pitcher and proceeded to fill the empty red mug across from her, adding in cream and five sugars before nudging it with one finger toward Ruby.

"Thanks Weiss! It always tastes better when you pour it." Ruby said with a grin as she picked up her mug and held it outward. "Cheers! To our girlfriend-iversary!"

"Cheers. To us." Weiss clinked her mug against Ruby's and they both took their first sips, enjoying a quiet moment to stare at each other.

"So, you're sure Nora can run your shop for the day without accidentally setting off one of the hundreds of weapons on display?" She asked, only half joking as she broke the silence.

"Oh come on, she's not THAT much of a loose cannon anymore." Ruby waved Weiss off casually. "Plus, Ren is there with her. I'm sure they'll be fine."

"If you say so. I just don't want our day together to be interrupted by Ren calling you with the news that your shop has a giant hole in the wall."

"Relax, Weiss. We have too much planned today for you to waste time worrying about that type of thing anyways. And if you want to check the place for damage yourself, we can switch places tomorrow. You'll run the shop for the day, and I'll run the SDC and all your fancy-schmancy meetings!"

"As amusing as it is to imagine the department managers trying to keep up with your energy, I think we both remember the last time you tried to act like me, and I think they're a bit too stuffy to appreciate your brand of leadership."

"I think that means you need new department managers!"

"To be honest, I've been thinking the same thing. I'll probably be looking for at least a few new ones starting tomorrow. Would you be interested in running a leadership workshop for all the department managers once I've finished the hiring a few new ones?"

"I'd be happy to, but my fee is ten kisses per hour and must be paid out directly by the CEO."

"Your terms are steep, but acceptable. My people will call your people. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a very important appointment downtown." Weiss gave Ruby a playful wink as she stood and walked toward the kitchen. She placed her empty mug in the sink and gave her combat skirt's pocket a quick pat with her free hand, checking that she had her wallet and other essentials.

"I must be going as well." Ruby called out. "I've got a date with a pretty girl!" She chugged the last of her sweet drink before running over to Weiss. "Hi there, pretty girl!" She said cutely.

The couple giggled at each other as they exited their penthouse apartment and walked into a well-decorated hallway. A short elevator ride later, they were on the sidewalk of Vale's main street. The city had been rebuilt following the defeat of Salem at the hands of Team RWBY and their allies. While the general public was aware that Team RWBY had a hand in helping finally rid Remnant of Salem, they were far from the only huntresses who fought in the war, and they had kept the extent of their personal hardships to themselves. As a result, they held the comfortable status of hometown heroes and respected huntresses, but not the weight of superstar celebrities, meaning they were able to make their way down the sidewalk with their arms linked, enjoying the crisp morning air without being hassled.

As they walked, Weiss glanced over at Ruby, taking in her profile. Even from the side, her silver eyes sparkled with life and light. She got an even better view of them as Ruby turned to her. She could almost feel the power of the silver orbs staring into her blue ones. Or perhaps that was just the sensation of butterflies in her chest. She didn't really mind either way.

"I still can't believe you got us VIP invites to the grand opening of the new bakery in town!" Ruby said as she gave Weiss' arm an excited shake. "It's right next to my shop, so I've been watching the construction for the past few months. I some state-of-the-art ovens getting carried in, and they got a shipment of comfy-looking furniture just last week. I can't wait to see what it looks like now that it's finished!"

"I'm excited for you to see it as well. I have a feeling you'll really like it." Weiss said as they turned a corner.

"I'm sure I will, I've never been to a bakery that I didn't—" Ruby stopped walking and gasped loudly.

They had arrived.

A hundred feet away, their destination was nestled between their favorite combat skirt boutique, Dressed to Kill, and Ruby's weapon shop, which she'd affectionately named It's Also a Gun. The bakery's large glass windows had been covered with sheets of brown paper throughout the construction process, preventing Ruby from peeking inside, despite her best efforts. The paper was now gone, but she wasn't able to see most of the interior decoration due to the number of people that were already in the building.

Above the entrance was a sign that hadn't been there the day before. On each side was a large, ornate flower. Filigree trimming extended from the base of each bloom, resembling intertwined roots, forming the bottom of the sign's frame. The establishment's name was proudly displayed between the flowers in swooping cursive font.

White Rose Bakery & Cafe

"Wh-what? Is this…? Did you…? But, how…?" Ruby whispered breathlessly, her eyes still fixated on the sign.

"With great deal of time and planning, but I can already tell it was worth it." Weiss responded quietly.

"Didn't I make you promise to not buy me a bakery?" Ruby put her hands on her hips with a sassy, but not quite upset tone as she turned to her girlfriend.

Weiss grinned triumphantly. "You made me promise that I wouldn't buy you a bakery as a thank you gift. I made no promises about not buying a bakery because I know it would make the girl I love happy and because I think it would be a good investment anyway."

"I should have known you'd use a technicality like that." Ruby wrapped her arms around Weiss. "I love you."

"I love you too." Weiss said quietly she leaned in and gave Ruby a quick kiss.

"But you don't know the first thing about starting or running a bakery! And I know you couldn't have overseen this while running the SDC. Who helped you?"

Weiss tilted her head and grinned. "In a way, you did."

"I think I'd remember helping you with something like this!" Ruby said, gesturing grandly at the building.

"Well, you helped me pick the people who helped me. Although you didn't really know you were helping pick them." Weiss twirled some of her long hair around her index finger as she smiled blissfully at Ruby, taking in her girlfriend's reaction. "Do you remember that taste testing I took you to at the SDC headquarters about a year ago?"

"How could I forget?!" Ruby said enthusiastically. "We spent an entire Saturday tasting cookies, cakes... pastries and… coffee…" Her eyes widened a bit as she began to piece things together. "But you said I was helping decide who would get a catering contract with the SDC!"

"That much was true, and they've already catered several events for the company. I just left out the fact that the chefs that day were also competing for something else." Weiss' smile became mischievous. "The opportunity to design and run a new bakery in downtown Vale."

"Does that mean the chefs who baked the chocolate chip cookie that made me cry because it tasted so good…?"

"Are inside, probably putting a fresh batch in the display case."

"You're incredible." Ruby held Weiss tightly. "Just how long have you been planning this?" She asked with cheerful curiosity.

"Ever since that day on the airship. I knew we'd have to finish the whole 'save the world' thing before I could put my plan into motion, but that just meant I had a lot of time to think through the details." Weiss responded lovingly and slid her hands around Ruby's waist. "Shall we go inside?"

"We shall, but not yet!" Ruby said as she pulled out her scroll. "This is totally a 'home screen' moment!"

The two of them had continuously updated their home screens whenever they did something particularly fun or special together, with the most recent picture being from their visit to Blake and Yang's house in Menagerie. They snapped a quick photo and changed the settings on their scrolls before linking arms again and walking past the red and white balloons next to the front door.

When they entered, they were greeted by the scent of confectioner's sugar and the gentle sound of upbeat music. To their left, a small line led to a pair of cash registers that were attached to fully stocked display cases and a bar that extended the length of the wall. Lively girls wearing pink aprons were taking orders, grabbing pastries, and making coffee. Lacquered wood tables and cushioned chairs took up roughly two-thirds of the dining area. Couches and large coffee tables filled the remaining space, creating a communal lounge area.

As Ruby and Weiss approached the display cases, a woman approximately the same age as them walked out of a door behind the bar. The tall brunette had pale skin, purple eyes, and was wearing a chef's hat. When Weiss waved at her, the woman's expression lit up and she quickly poked her head back into the kitchen. A moment later, another woman with fair skin, light brown eyes, and wavy blonde hair appeared. The two held hands as they walked out from behind the counter.

"Weiss! Ruby! It's so good to see you!" The purple-eyed woman said warmly.

"Hi!" Ruby said, looking both excited and slightly embarrassed. "I'm really, really sorry, but I can't remember your names." She admitted.

The other chef smiled and waved her hand nonchalantly. "Don't worry, I don't think we even properly introduced ourselves at the tasting last year. I'm Madeleine, and this is my wife, Claire!"

"It's nice to meet you both again. This place is amazing." Ruby said, still in awe of her surroundings.

"The pleasure is all ours." Claire said, giving Madeleine's hand a squeeze. "We're so happy that we can finally share our cooking with the rest of Vale."

"Not to mention finally sharing the name of the place! Miss Snow-Angel-Investor over here really didn't want you finding out about her little scheme." Madeleine smirked and nodded in Weiss' direction. "We had to sign some intense nondisclosure agreements!"

Ruby rolled her eyes and nudged her girlfriend. "Sorry about that. Business Weiss can be kind of scary sometimes."

"Only when it's important business." Weiss blushed as she leaned slightly into Ruby before turning to the couple "And you both did a wonderful job with the preparations. I'm sure this place will be a complete success." She looked at them with sincere confidence.

"That means a lot to us." Claire said, her gaze drifting toward the brown eyes beside her. "We hope to be running it for a very long time."

"And we should probably get back to running it, but let me show you to your table first." Madeleine gestured for Ruby and Weiss to follow her as Claire returned to the front counter.

They made their way to the back wall, where a single unoccupied table was waiting with a small sign that said 'Reserved' in the same cursive font as the bakery's logo.

"Here you are." Madeleine said, plucking the sign from the table just as Claire reappeared with two large cookies held in parchment paper.

"And these are for you. If you want anything else, just let us know!" She handed the warm treats over before glancing lovingly at Madeleine. "Come on, sweetie."

"Right behind you, sugar." The other chef responded. The pair waved goodbye to Ruby and Weiss as they departed.

Ruby waved back at them until they weren't looking at her anymore. "This is all so perfect." Ruby mused as they took their seats. "The food, the atmosphere, the location, and the chefs are a couple too. What are the odds?"

"One hundred percent." Weiss responded with a simple shrug.

"Hmm?" Ruby raised an inquisitive eyebrow as she took a large bite of her cookie.

Weiss smiled adoringly as she used her thumb to wipe a stray crumb from the corner of Ruby's mouth. "You must have been too blinded by all the food at the tasting to notice that the chefs who served us were always in pairs. And were all women." She smiled lightheartedly. "I wanted this bakery to represent us in every way possible, so I did my research when selecting candidates for the tasting. All of the chefs that day were couples, so the odds of you selecting a couple to run the bakery was one hundred percent."

Ruby gulped down the mouthful of cookie. "You really did think of everything, didn't you?" She whispered happily.

"I certainly tried to. No amount of effort is too much if it's for you, Ruby." Weiss said lovingly. Under the table, she quietly slid her right hand into the pocket of her combat skirt.

Ruby blushed and took another large bite of her cookie. As she chewed, she became aware of the music playing in the bakery again.

~~~I won't need any dreams, it's all there if you're by my side~~~

A small shiver of tension went through her body. At some point, the bakery's cheerful playlist had arrived at a familiar tune and gotten all the way to its bridge without her realizing it. She and Weiss had managed to listen to the song a number of times over the past several years. In the weeks leading up to their final battle with Salem, they had made it a personal goal to listen to the piece in its entirety. A goal they accomplished.

However, that didn't mean their goal had been to make it through without crying. They knew they song would be an emotional one for them, but they sought to change it from a specter that haunted them into a memorial of sorts. But, every time they had listened to it, they did so intentionally. They had never encountered it by accident before, much less in public.

~~~Every moment's enough, and you take me to paradise~~~

Weiss noticed Ruby's expression and the song almost simultaneously. "Oh my gosh." She whispered frantically, her face going even paler than usual as she jumped out of her seat. "I swear I didn't tell them to play this. Stay here, I'll have them change it immediately." He combat skirt flared as she turned toward the bar.

~~~When I needed a hero, you knew it, and you were there~~~

"Wait."

Ruby's voice was steady as she grabbed Weiss' wrist, intercepting her before she could take her first step. "It's fine. I'm fine. I'd… like to listen to it with you."

~~~And I'm scared, but I'll open my heart up, I'm ready to dare~~~

Weiss look at Ruby with astonishment. "Are you sure?"

"I am."

~~~I know I've never felt like this before~~~

"Alright." Weiss pulled her arm gently, sliding her wrist through Ruby's fingers until their hands met. "I'm here for you."

~~~I never really knew what love was for~~~

"I know you are." Ruby whispered as Weiss took her seat again.

~~~I dreamed, but never did believe~~~

They then did something they had never done before.

"But baby, it's time to make up your mind."

Their singing was barely above a whisper, only loud enough the two of them to hear amongst the bustling chatter of the other customers.

"I think that tonight is when our stars align."

They saw tears in each other's eyes, but the tears were happy. Triumphant.

"Honey, it's now we leave the doubt behind."

They moved their free hands together, interlocking both pairs over the small table.

"Take my hand, cause you and I are gonna light the sky up till it's dawn, and baby, you and I are gonna shine."

Ruby and Weiss continued holding hands as the song faded, finally separating them so they could dry their eyes and finish their cookies.

"Thanks, Weiss." Ruby said before sighing cathartically. "This place is amazing, but I could really use some fresh air right now. Can we go for a walk?"

"Fresh air sounds wonderful." Weiss nodded in agreement as she stood and offered Ruby her hand once more.

The two waved to Claire and Madeleine as the left the bakery and took another moment to look at the sign outside of it before starting to walk around the city.

Their conversation didn't have any particular direction, nor did their feet. They simply enjoyed the sunny morning and each other's company.

"My feet are beginning to hurt." Weiss commented after they had been walking for nearly an hour. "Let's find a place to sit for a while."

"Yeah, my feet are starting to get tired as well." Ruby glanced around, approximating their location. "Oh! I know where we can go!" She scooped Weiss off her feet with a broad grin. "Ready?"

Weiss clutched Ruby's sleeves as she braced herself for what she knew was about to happen. "Ready."

A moment later, the world was a blur around her. A few moments after that, the world came back into focus, and she knew exactly where they were. She didn't even need to look down to know that she was being lowered onto a seat.

They were in a large, circular courtyard, sitting in one of the sturdy wooden benches that lined the perimeter of the otherwise open space. Gray slate covered the ground beneath them, as well as the walkways extending from opposite sides of the circle. One path went back to the city, and the other extended toward a collection of castle-like buildings, several of which were obviously newer than others. An insignia with two crossed axes emblazoned the center of the area.

"It's been a while since we've come here." Weiss said nostalgically.

They were in the front courtyard of Beacon Academy.

The courtyard was lively, but not overcrowded with students and visitors. A few people had briefly glanced in their direction due to the sudden burst of petals that heralded their arrival, but they were content to continue about their business.

"Yeah, it has. We were standing just over there when I fell into your luggage and then exploded." Ruby giggled quietly. "After that, I thought you'd never be my friend, much less my girlfriend." Ruby's words had a gentle, sincere happiness to them.

"If I'd had my way, you'd have taken that pamphlet on dust safety from me at the entrance ceremony later that day and never spoken to me again. Thank goodness things didn't go as I'd planned." Weiss scooted closer to Ruby and pressed the sides of their arms together.

"Most things haven't gone as planned for us over the years, have they?"

"I suppose they haven't. But somehow we wound up here, together."

"We have. And being with you is all that I need."

"I couldn't agree more."

They leaned into each other, sharing a quiet moment, which was interrupted by Ruby sighing wistfully.

"Weiss, I love you." Ruby sounded unusually serious. There was no hint of uncertainty in her declaration, which had been made many times before, but there was an unusual amount of weight behind her words.

"I love you too, Ruby." Weiss responded with a comforting tone, as she gently touched Ruby's arm. "So very much. In fact, I've been wanting to have a conversation with you about just how much I love you."

"You… you have?" Ruby looked at Weiss carefully. "What type of conversation?"

A slight blush reached Weiss' face. "Well, um… you see, it's about our… what did you call it… mutually consented trial period of courtship?"

Ruby looked stunned for a moment. "Wait! That's what I want to discuss too! You don't mean…" She paused with her mouth half open as she pointed a trembling finger at Weiss.

Weiss leaned back slightly. "H-huh? Wait, Ruby, you couldn't possibly…" The gears in her head spun, landing on the only logical explanation. "Hold on!" She scrambled around, her hand rummaging into her combat skirt's pocket.

Ruby began floundering about, realizing what was happening. "No! Wait! I… I want to say it!" Her hand flew into her own pocket and grasped around for the item she'd double checked was with her before leaving their apartment earlier that morning.

They became still as they found what they were looking for, hands still hidden from sight. They stared at each other, looking equally frantic and exhilarated.

"But Ruby, I want to be the one to—"

"No way, I've waited way too long to not ask you myself!"

"I've wanted to ask you for ages though! I—Fine! We'll ask at the same time!"

"Deal!"

They mirrored each other's movements, swiftly pulling small boxes out of their pockets, opening them with outstretched arms, and speaking simultaneously.

"Weiss, will you—"

"Ruby, will you—"

"YES OF COURSE I'LL MARRY YOU!"

"YES OF COURSE I'LL MARRY YOU!"

As they embraced and kissed passionately, the open boxes fell from to the ground below, the rings inside them glittering brilliantly in the midday sun.

A/N: In the author's notes of my previous chapter, I said, "I don't anticipate having nearly as much trouble writing the final 'free day' chapter." So much for that!

First, I got delayed by several weeks due to hectic (but positive) circumstances. When I finally sat down to write the chapter, I almost immediately realized I didn't like the flow of events as I had initially envisioned them and spent a day writing and scrapping paragraphs. After taking a few days to step away, I hit a stride and wrote out most of the chapter, but then hit a brick wall in the final scene.

While my endgame was always a simultaneous proposal, I couldn't find the right words for the two of them to say in the moments leading up to the proposal itself. The scene alone took over a month of on and off thought. If it had been any scene other than the literal finale of the story, I'd have forced myself to publish something after a day or two, but I refused to let myself release the chapter until I was at least mostly satisfied with the ending. Even now, I don't know if I consider it perfect, but it feels as good as anything that I as a first-time fanfic writer could make without running the risk of the story never actually getting finished.

Aside from the final scene, I feel very good about how the rest of the chapter turned out. I really enjoyed bringing several things from previous chapters back, such as the bakery, combat skirts with pockets, coffee, and "Shine".

While I actively avoided creating any original characters in the earlier chapters, my setup for the bakery required chefs, and while I considered not having them actually appear, the idea of them being a couple to parallel Ruby and Weiss occurred to me and felt too fun to not use, so I spent several hours deciding what Claire and Madeleine's names and appearances would be. Claire's is based on a éclair, and Madeleine's inspiration is the French cookie of the same name. I felt that both pastries had a distinct enough appearance and color to satisfy the "color naming" rule of the RWBY universe. It might be a bit of a stretch, but I also wanted to keep the odds of the names I used appearing in the actual series to a minimum.

While this final chapter took significantly longer than I had ever hoped it would, I still really enjoyed the process of White Rose Week (months, for me, I suppose) and plan to do it again next year, but with either greater planning or without the goal of writing extended chapters and a continuous story. My direction will largely hinge upon the state of my personal schedule as the week approaches next year.

I cannot thank you enough for joining me in the adventure of my first fanfic. Every view count, favorite/kudo, follow/favorite, comment/review means a great deal to me. If you had any favorite parts, I'd love to know what they were. I hope my writing was able to bring you some joy, and I hope to see you all again next year.

Keep moving forward!

[crazy-grrrl-on-the-computer]

@amateurcatalyst​ asked: it's very interesting how they focus on Goura while En talks about chikuwabu; could he be the chikuwabu of their own group?

My original response to that Ask was here, but then...

@angry-jewish-magical-girl​ said: you know why i think the camera panned to goura when en mentioned chikuwabu? Because gora was initially supposed to be a background character who didn’t actually contribute anything to the story, and en was talking about how chikuwabu is pointless and had no reason for existing. The show was lowkey saying gora was a pointless character. I mean ok he’s not actually pointless, he’s yumoto’s guardian. but that early in the show’s development, as far as the writers may have known, gora wasn’t actually there to contribute anything to the plot other than be yumoto’s guardian

THIS WAS IT! THIS WAS THE EXTRA PIECE OF INFORMATION I NEEDED TO COMPLETE THE ODEN METAPHOR!!!!

I had completely forgotten about this interview (thank you so much to @intra-fiducia​ for the translations and @elucida​ for digging this up for me!!!) where Takamatsu explained Goura's development in season 1, but now that I have this information I can elaborate on a thought I had started to touch on in my oden post about the chikuwabu and what it represents.

So, prepare yourselves for another spam of screenshots below the cut as we voyage into Oden Part 2: Return of the Chikuwabu!

~.~

First, some things I would like to point out from the interview that explain certain relevant moments...

That’s pretty sketchy *laughs*. Then, why is the first monster chikuwabu? Whose idea was that? Takamatsu: To be honest, while we were sitting at a drinking party, we started talking about how you could only find chikuwabu in Tokyo, and how people from other regions didn’t even know it existed, and the impression of that conversation stayed with me…I suppose that was it? Yokote: Right, right. Then we decided ‘let’s use this conversation as is’. But we learnt that a surprising number of people liked chikuwabu, so I was…a little worried about messing with the chikuwabu. Miyawaki: It’s okay! Zaou likes chikuwabu, so we’re covering for the chikuwabu thing *laughs*.

Ryuu's tone and the way he looked at the others with that cheesy smile seemed more comedic like "Well, I like chikuwabu. Anyone else with me? Huh? Huh?" while the others just give him a look like "wtf, Ryuu?"

And now I know why (although I will still stand by my "Ryuu sympathizes with the chikuwabu" theory). It's an in-joke with the staff poking fun at themselves because they realized how much they were ragging on something that was more popular than they had initially thought and Ryuu's just there to be their mouthpiece like "but chikuwabu isn't really so bad, please don't hate. *sweats profusely*" XD

Speaking of Gora, why does he keep chopping wood for a natural hot spring? Takamatsu: The Kurotama Bath is actually an onsen even though it’s a public bath. So we realized halfway that you don’t need firewood if it’s an onsen. Yokote: It was like, ‘ehh, at this point in time?!!’. Miyawaki: It would have been terrible to correct, so we had him continue chopping wood as he had been, and let Kinugawa critique that before the viewers could. Takamatsu: And then in the last episodes, 11 and 12, we redeemed ourselves since it was foreshadowing!

We all remember this scene from S1E6, right?

Oh, staff... Way to have Goura lampshade the fact that you originally had no purpose for him other than to stand outside the Kurotama and chop wood all day. Yes, Yumoto, listen to your An-chan. Do not become a "useless protagonist" who does nothing but stand with the main group and smile and look cute while the plot happens around you... oh...

Ryuu is smiling at En's attempt to give credit where credit is due, but Atsushi is having none of it.

He looks so tired. Being one of the designated "straight men" of the group (strictly in the figurative sense) is draining when he can see through all the fluffy bullshit that is constantly being thrown up in front of them.

If Atsushi is the staff's mouthpiece here, then En is us. “Eh?” Yes, Atsushi, do shed some light on the situation for us, for we have all been blind and it is the one with glasses who alone could see.

*click*

For about 4 seconds, Goura sweats profusely

before shutting his window.

He can’t answer and neither could the staff.

Look what you did, Atsushi, you fucked up a perfectly good background character is what you did. Look at him. He has anxiety.

Yumoto, why so harsh? But is this the staff taking a potshot at themselves, too? XD

Bless you, En.

And since they can’t just leave it on that unhappy note, we get the other bookend at the end of the episode…

Thanks, Atsushi. You really won't let that go, huh? Look, I don’t come into your house and ask you why you obsess over jigsaw puzzles, do I? Let the man run his business.

Ryuu, you’re not helping. And to be honest, there’s zero point in chasing skirt as much as you do, so what are you trying to say? *raises an eyebrow* 

Io, you have no right to talk.

Meanwhile, En is so disappointed in them. LET THE MAN LIVE!

Moral of the story: We accidentally gave a "useless" character an even more useless job, literally defeating his entire purpose for being there, so the only way we could fix it without making ourselves look sloppy and destroying the overall moral of this show that everyone's important was to turn it into his hobby and call it foreshadowing. *thumbs up*

I wish I sparkled like that when I sweat. Wow.

You’ve done good, Goura. Follow your dreams. You deserve them.

Did the previous battle lover, Gora, have any companions? Takamatsu: Umm, I haven’t thought about it at all *laughs*. At first, Gora was really only there for chopping wood, but in deciding the brotherly showdown episode he became a pretty central to things. If not for the developments of the final episode, I think he would have just kept on chopping wood until the end.

I wouldn't know when development for the season 1 finale would have taken place, but I think it's fairly safe to say that, even at this point in ep6, Goura was still just a background character. A staple of the Kurotama and nothing more. Until whatever point it was when they decided to turn him into a monster and play up the brother dynamics to sucker punch our hearts even more. In the interview, they mentioned that the development of the brotherly love message in ep10 was where they started to set us up for the pain because they wanted the brothers to battle.

So, that brings this whole thing back around to the chikuwabu...

Basically, the joke I got out of this when I thought about it made me laugh.

At this point in time, Goura looks like he might have an important role because the camera pans to him. He’s there. We see him. But he’s only ever chopping wood. He doesn’t do anything else. Goodness knows we all remember going through each episode during season 1 and wondering what his story was and coming up with theories about why he was even shown in the episodes and interacting with the other characters as if he was so significant if his peculiar presence wasn’t going to be explained eventually.

That’s it. That’s the joke. En is saying, “He just looks like he integrates into the plot, but he really doesn’t. You can stare at him and study him for hours and hours, but you won’t find anything of real substance. He’s good at blending in without actually doing anything. What you see with him is exactly what you get. He just chops wood.”

And then En goes on to say that he doesn’t know if he hates chikuwabu, he just feels like he’s looking at an unknown lifeform, and it’s funny when you think about how everyone just accepts Goura as the staple of the Kurotama because that’s all he is to them and then they still can’t figure him out when they really have to think about it. (Well, aside from Yumoto, of course. Goura means a lot more to him than to the others.)

But despite the fact that Goura is also chikuwabu, I still wouldn’t go so far as to call him a “pointless” character. Because even before he was given a more significant role in the main plot of the season and before there was any “foreshadowing” (I see what you did there, staff), he still had a purpose. Calling him “pointless” would defeat the point of the metaphor, you see.

In fact, all of the background characters, the loveless, and even the Press Society are the chikuwabu. They are only there as a throwaway character or to serve a single mundane purpose, whether they appear as a significant role in the narrative of an episode or not. But they are all still equally important because the show needs them to fill those roles in order to tell the story. Without them, the story could not have progressed the way it did if the only “important” ones were the main characters.

The background characters who have no lines or only a few lines here and there, whether that dialogue is filler or not, just to take up space on screen or prove a point a character is making…

The loveless, who are only used as pawns in each episode to serve as an object lesson in morality and receive life advice…

The Press Society, who shows up a few times to be a nuisance to the main characters and serves as a third-party antagonist so the Caerula Adamas could be redeemed…

The aliens and, heck, even Tawarayama-sensei, who is only used as vehicle of transportation for Wombat and isn’t even given the decency of respect… because he’s dead, remember, he’s dead and his life is but a mere joke to amuse us and the aliens have a penchant for puppeteering more than just human life and deriving enjoyment out of watching it happen…

And Goura, who faithfully stood outside the Kurotama chopping wood and was only much later on given the title of magical boy.

They are the chikuwabu of season 1. And even the chikuwabu, who we might not initially think of as anything important or significant, is a key ingredient necessary for making our beloved story what it is. They support the story while playing their own parts.

They are all oden, guys. Everyone and everything is oden. This show and even us, we are all oden. Oden is love, oden is life, oden is never over.

[fifteenleads]

all in a day’s work (2/?)

Bungou Stray Dogs  x  Cells At Work.

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"Atsushiiiii! " Naomi quickly envelops Atsushi in a tight hug as soon as they get back to the dorms. He still feels dazed after getting away from the scene; Tanizaki had immediately come to pick him up after hearing what happened, even pushing away the Killer T Cell that had been questioning him about the creature's whereabouts. The whole body had been placed on red alert since that afternoon; apparently, the remaining stragglers had managed to escape the Neutrophils' initial attack efforts.

"You probably shouldn't go to work tomorrow," Tanizaki says later over dinner, eyebrows furrowed with worry. "Just call in sick. I'll tell the boss for you."

"N-No, I'm fine," Atsushi manages to find his voice, "these things do happen on the job. I'm prepared."

"The  hell  you are!" Naomi slams a hand on the table, almost spilling her miso soup. "Pneumococci are really dangerous! Pneumonia's just the beginning; they can also cause severe bacteremia and worse, meningitis! You're not going anywhere! Nii-sama, too!" She directs her glare to Tanizaki, as well, who does not protest his sister's outburst, but remains frustrated nonetheless.

Later that night, Atsushi remains wide awake while in bed, his mind replaying the day's events. He wouldn't describe himself as some sort of hero at all. Those would be the immune cells, the body's own elite military force that defended against attacks from harmful pathogens. Unlike him, they are fully trained to detect and annihilate any and all threats that come their way. It's just how their world works.

Even so, Atsushi knew he could not just stand back and watch a helpless cell die. Just like back then—

"Do you really want to die that quickly?!"

That... Neutrophil, Akutagawa. If he hadn't arrived on time, Atsushi would have probably been killed right there and then. Everything happened so quickly— the way his coat fluttered in the acrid air, and the swiftness with which he wielded his knife... It was like watching a dance of death, the blood splatter extending like a flurry of red petals.

"Like a blood knight," Atsushi mumbles to himself. Even he has heard of the rumors of the "Rabid Dog" that had joined the Neutrophil Division a few months ago, around the same time as when he started to work as a Red Blood Cell. To think that he'd been saved by that very person just this afternoon— what were the chances, indeed.

It was all too familiar to him, for some reason— something, back in the recesses of his memory, that he couldn't recall, no matter how hard he tried.

Atsushi immediately stops that line of thought, sensing a headache coming on. He turns to his side and closes his eyes, thinking of how to spend his break tomorrow. He doesn't want to worry Tanizaki and Naomi any more than he already has. Time to move on.

-

The riverbank is quiet in the early morning, with only a few red blood cells milling about with crates of gas tanks. It seems that the body hasn’t woken yet from its slumber, lending to the more relaxed overall atmosphere.

It is actually one of Atsushi’s most favorite times of the day, starting from back when he worked the night shift for a few months. The slower pace had given him more time to think and learn things.

Today, too, he is seated in his usual spot, notebook and pen in hand. He has forgone the red jacket for a pale, brown cardigan, over an old white shirt and black jogging pants. The gentle upwind caresses his face as he watches the sun rise.

Atsushi flips to the most recent page and begins to write. It had begun as a coping mechanism of sorts; Ozaki-sensei had taught him how to deal with his old nightmares in this manner. The first entries have been rigid and restrained, then have eventually grown more detailed as he learned to let his words flow more naturally. It had certainly been a long time since he’d had to use his notebook, but now is probably as good a time as any to start again.

He is already three-quarters into the entry when an angry baritone intones from behind, “What are you doing here? Somatic cells are not allowed to leave their homes until further notice.”

Atsushi immediately turns around to explain, and is again met with those jet-black irises, this time flashing in mild annoyance. Likewise, the scowl on the other man’s face is replaced with brief surprise, before settling into an amused smile.

“Oh, it’s you,” they both say in unison. Atsushi follows this up with a smile of his own, eliciting a raised eyebrow in response.

For someone who has apparently been patrolling all night, Akutagawa doesn’t look any worse for wear at all, the additional blood splatter on his dirty fatigues notwithstanding. His posture remains taut even as he uncrosses his arms, in what Atsushi presumes is an attempt to diffuse the tension between them. He lets out a small chuckle at this before he could stop himself.

“What’s so funny?” Akutagawa growls at him. It makes the couple of red blood cells nearby flinch, but Atsushi only laughs harder instead. 

“N-Nothing at all,” he says while wiping a tear with his gloved hand. “I just didn’t expect you to react the way you did just now.” The explanation does not convince Akutagawa at all, whose expression is currently something between a grimace and a frown, as he tries to process what he has just heard.

Atsushi finds it unexpectedly endearing, and his heart almost skips a beat at the thought.

The sun has just fully risen, and the background chatter gradually becomes louder as more blood cells arrive in the area. It sets Akutagawa on edge once more, and he quickly turns to leave, taking much larger strides than usual. 

“Akutagawa-san,” Atsushi calls out to him, stopping him in his tracks. Akutagawa whips his head back, tired eyes in a dead-set glare once more. “I’m actually on break today,” Atsushi continues anyway, carefully standing back up and dusting the grass that stuck to his pants, before jogging lightly towards Akutagawa. “Can I walk with you, at least part of the way?”

Akutagawa’s glare only deepens, as he gives Atsushi a quick once-over from head to toe. He doesn’t say anything for a while at first, the silence between them making Atsushi’s skin prickle. Finally, Akutagawa’s face relaxes into a more neutral expression as he turns back to continue on his path.

He doesn’t say no, at least, Atsushi thinks as he falls into step beside Akutagawa. This is fine for now.

-

The continuation of Akutagawa’s foot patrol brings them to a puncture wound at the right median cubital vein, where a blood sample had just been drawn earlier. Atsushi notices a small group of platelets there, repairing the damage to the vascular endothelium there. A relatively simple job order like this would only take twenty-four hours, tops, yet Akutagawa observes the goings-on with an ominous frown.

He’s just normally like that, Atsushi tries to convince himself, but the longer he thinks about it, the more he starts to believe Akutagawa, as well.

“Big Brother Red Blood Cell?” a tentative voice calls from behind him, and Atsushi whirls around in surprise. The platelet he had saved yesterday shyly waves back at him, with an excited grin that reaches up to their ears. “It is you!” they confirm in delight, immediately running closer to him for a hug.

Atsushi bends down to the child’s height and accepts the small embrace, giving them a gentle pat on the head before adjusting their lopsided cap. “Hello there! Glad to see you’re doing well.”

The platelet nods enthusiastically, gesturing to the ongoing construction work behind them. “Yup, all thanks to you, Big Brother and the Big Brother White Blood Cell!” Atsushi instinctively looks behind him, just in time to see Akutagawa flinch at the mention, a pale hand over his face as he looks away, trying to suppress the rosy flush that is now growing there. “I… was just doing my job,” he deflects, as if to ask the child to just go away and get back to work, as it were.

Atsushi nearly snorts at this, but resists that temptation in favor of telling the child just that. “I think your team leader’s calling for you,” he says, gesturing to the taller, dark-haired girl in twintails now approaching them. She gives Atsushi a hesitant smile, bending down, too, to tap the child on both shoulders.

“Thank you for saving one of my teammates,” she nods her head as if in a bow, the mobile phone hanging around her neck bobbing with the action. “All of us platelets appreciate your bravery, good sirs.”

“You’re welcome,” Atsushi smiles back, now feeling the same embarrassment Akutagawa is trying hard to suppress since earlier. He settles for putting a hand behind his head to show just that, and the girl understands at once, taking the child by their hand before standing up to leave.

“Do let us know if there is anything you need in the future,” she offers. “I’m Kyouka, one of the platelet team leaders, and this is Q.”

“All right, Kyouka, Q,” Atsushi acknowledges with another nod. “It was nice meeting you both.” 

“Likewise. We must get going now, good sirs.”

The short meeting ends soon after, and Atsushi turns back to Akutagawa, who has now lost the pink blush on his cheeks, yet remains in silent contemplation. “Thanks for waiting, Akutagawa-san. Where are you going next?”

Akutagawa does not answer this, and the strange foreboding from earlier creeps back, sending slow chills down Atsushi’s spine. The body had blood drawn just recently; was there any reason for that?

He then remembers that the red alert warning, too, hasn’t been lifted. It makes him hesitate— was he holding Akutagawa back?

“A-Akutagawa-san?...” Atsushi begins again tentatively, but is taken aback when Akutagawa’s radar suddenly picks up a distant signal, and he suddenly runs back in the direction they came. Atsushi is only briefly stunned by the sudden start, before he, too, starts running.

He catches up to Akutagawa before long, barely sparing him a glance as he asks, “I-Isn’t this already the axillary vein? What’s going on?”

Akutagawa’s radar only buzzes louder in response, and they both pick up the pace. They reach a minor valve, which Akutagawa expertly jumps over, while Atsushi is momentarily thrown off as he attempts to clamber over it. He could normally pass through the venous valves if he were wearing his uniform and ID, but this just had to happen while he’s off-duty, of all days.

In that short instant, the distance between him and Akutagawa has already increased exponentially, and Atsushi shouts in his loudest voice: “Wait for me!”

Akutagawa’s shoulders tense up even more, but he doesn’t stop running. “You stay there, Red Blood Cell! It’s not safe!”

You’ll only hold me back, is what Atsushi hears, and it frustrates him so much— the tail-end of Akutagawa’s last words, the mechanical beeping of the valve alarm, and the soft, angry growls rising from his chest as they end in a cry of frustration out of his trembling lips.

“Red blood cells run from bacteria, not fight them!”

He knew that—  knows that. This was never his fight to begin with.

Atsushi returns to the dorms, dejected, and buries himself under the covers. The area-wide sirens from outside wail loudly, announcing evacuation orders, but he couldn’t care less about that now.

There’s no point, after all— there was never one, for him.

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