#i got bit by a drawing bug and felt the strong need to finish this post today

[acrobattack]

bliss redesign based off one I made in my teens

thought process + various other bits and bobs under the cut

I was 15 and annoyed by everything that moved when this character first came out, so in my own head I was very much making a Point with this redesign. Hence, I made very minimal changes. I wanted to work with what was already there and basically just make the existing design more thought-through. Little breakdown ahead (keeping in mind i myself am very much An Amateur who doesn’t know shit and am just ranting about my opinions and i also haven’t seen a single second of the 2016 reboot so i don’t know much about Bliss to begin with)

1. one of my Biggest pet peeves with Bliss is that the powerpuff girls each have bangs that are simple, memorable, and iconic while also being unique from each other and being reminiscent of irl little girls hairstyles. It’s very neat and clever and I like it a lot

and then Bliss has this confusing jumble of shapes that looks like it changes in style halfway across her forehead

i have absolutely no idea what the intent is here. My only guess is maybe it’s meant to look weird on purpose like she was trying to cut it herself or something (I suspect it’s something like that since she seems to have normal looking bangs as a little kid from what I can see) but it doesn’t really come off that way if that’s the case. It just looks like baby’s first PPG OC where you Understand that it’s meant to be hair and that it is made out of shapes but have 0 understanding of hairstyle or character design in general. Heck I might have put this exact hairline on a character in the past at the age of like 8

So in my redesign she’s got 5 even notches across her bangs, not thee most exciting change but it does the job I think. It is pretty reminiscent of Blossom but they look different enough from each other that I wasn’t too worried about it

2. low-hanging fruit time, Bliss’s hair color is horrible on the eyes. I’m bewildered at the decision to do this, especially since there is just so much of it, I struggle to think of how she could exist in any scene without hogging all the viewer’s attention constantly. That said, I understand they wanted her to have an unnatural hair color to really signal that she is a Fresh new Teen character from the late 2010’s, which is. Whatever, that’s fine, so she gets purple hair now. I kept the streak for the same reason, especially since she’s got a lot of hair, so no harm in a little extra interest in there.

I also learned recently that her hair glows sometimes? which i did Not know when first drawing her but well i think the darker color helps anyway. It adds some contrast for when she’s normal vs when she’s glowing and makes the latter appear more,, idk threatening or powerful or whatever the mood generally is when she’s doing that.

I did re-add that toothpaste blue to her eyelids though. I like to think it’s also the color of her lasers. It’s a cute color, just not as like 70% of this character’s palette

3. real talk I was drawing this from memory and didn’t mean to change the way her hair flares out from her head. realistically I think the original is fine, maybe just a little boring but fine, so that part of the redesign was an accident. Only thing is, it’s in the exact same position in every screenshot I’ve seen? It doesn’t seem to whip around when she’s flying or anything which looks weird and probably looks weirder in motion, especially since it takes up so much space onscreen. Idk it’s a strange decision, esp since the original show liked to use the ppg’s hair to emphasize their movement, so I’d just bring more movement into her hair. I mean if nothing else it’d make her look cooler.

very very rough little visual of what I mean

I also ended up making it shorter in my redesign—again, not really intentional, but I think it’s better that it eats up a little less of her silhouette

4. Her headband is largely the same, I didn’t hate the idea of her having an accessory, so I just toned down the colors. I’m not personally a fan of the powder blue and that pink heart is very bright and just doesn’t go with the rest of her (once again the color of her hair is doing it no favors). I also moved the heart over. Not necessarily needed I think, but I feel like it reads quicker as a headband and not a weird crown that way+introduces some asymmetry into her design that I think is nice.

5. my biggest gripe other than her bangs are her hips. I’m not against adding anatomy to this character design to make her read visually as older than the girls, but it’s so awkwardly done and distracting. I feel like it even interferes with her line of action more often than not (which is not helped by her unmoving hair).

Part of the issue is she still has the teeny tiny torso, just… with those square-ish hips slapped on, which makes her legs look all gangly and stretched out. I tried to balance out the proportions more in my redesign, as well as change the hips to a flared skirt. I think it helps differentiate her from the girls and still implies hips underneath, it just also functions as a less clunky transition from her torso to her legs.

Lengthening her torso also allows the stripe to look more like a belt above the skirt, which I think helps to sell her as “similar, but not the same” from the ppg

6. Her leggings(? Idk Im not a fashion person) aren’t a bad idea I think. like a more mature version of the girls’ stockings, but I think the white makes them look really distracting. It would help to make them a darker color I think, but since I wanted to keep them reminiscent of the girls’ socks I kept them white and just shortened them.

7. Not really sure what Bliss is wearing on her feet. I think they’re Mary Janes, but they’re drawn a bit different from the girls’ and I honestly think it’s too babyish a shoe for her to wear. I’m not sure what she’s actually wearing in my redesign either honestly, but the goal was just to make them look like the girls’ Mary Janes while clearly being something different.

8. Uh her signature color is something I’ve contemplated changing a lot but to be real I think it’s fine. I feel it was a very bad idea from a marketing standpoint because people were hype about Bunny and would obviously be mad they didn’t get her once the character actually dropped (and in the long-run she would just end up being overshadowed by the character everyone has already assigned that color to) but I’m personally not bugged by her being purple beyond that. If I were to draw them together though I think Bunny would have a more pinky shade of purple and Bliss leans more blue.

Loosely on the same topic, because of Bliss I’ve had a running headcanon that “only child” types of powerpuffs tend to come out purple. Kind of like how trios tend to have a red, blue, and green. It’s a fun little piece of fake lore to rotate around in my brain

Anyway with all that out of the way, here’s some redesigns I decided to have some fun with. Wasn’t being too precious about recognizability or simplicity or anything like that, but I did run out of steam partway through. There’s also one based off Whoopass Bell bc idk, why not

Finally, here’s some OCs I only ever drew once before out of a desire to give Bliss her own teen girl archetypes to form a team with. This is Bee and Beetle, who I’ll probably definitely forget about again immediately after posting this

[writingmysanity]

Rumor has it

Prompt: "There are rumors about us" "I know, I spread them"

Pairing: Eskel x reader

Word count: 805

TW: loosely? Local man can't keep his hands to himself- more on the story once Eskel finds him. Back to you. Hmmmm Protective Eskel.

A/N: as per usual- Unbeta'd and all mistakes are my own. I do not own any characters minus Kit- though, I'd love to get my hands on Eskel. >.>

Candlelight flickers off the walls, illuminating your seat just enough for you to read by as you are slumped comfortably to curl into your book. The words on the page seem to leap off, capturing your attention. You didn't notice Eskel come in until his hand is on your shoulder, eyebrows raised a bit curiously. Blinking up at him slowly, you force your eyes to refocus on him, a sleepy smile stretching your face.

“Hey,” you hum, voice quiet in the silence that had surrounded you for what felt like moments, but looking back down at your nearly finished novel you had only just picked up, you realized it had probably been closer to hours. He just nods slightly, smiling softly. 

He always found it amusing when you “woke up” from reading.

“Good?” he asks gently, motioning to the book now resting in your lap, folded around your hand so as to not lose your spot as you turn your attention to him. Nodding, you grin. 

“Very,” he hums, satisfied. He had bought you the book in the last town you visited. It isn't often you're able to afford luxuries, but he tried to find little things to make the travel easier.

You were going to start in about the book, explain it all, like you normally would but something had settled over him- he is tense, eyebrows tugged together, eyes wide and far away. Closing the book altogether, you lean forward, resting your hand over his. 

“Hey,” you call softly, the sound drawing his eyes to you. He looks lost and confused, worries pooling in his bright eyes. “I need you to think louder, I can't hear what's going on in there, darling.”

“I…” he pauses, humming, unsure how to say it or where to begin. Giving him a knowing look, you tap the back of his hand again, bringing him back to you as you watch him lose himself in thought. 

“Just say it as direct as possible. Channel your inner Geralt,” he huffs a laugh, leaning forward slightly, tapping on the back of your hand out of habit and nerves, shifting in his seat, taking a deep breath before muttering it out so low that you aren't able to hear.

“What? Speak up, wolf, I'm hard of hearing.” puffing his cheeks up, he scrunches his nose at you, sighing, the air escaping his cheek slowly.

“No you aren't.” you grin a bit.

“Compared to you, I am. Now come along, speak up. Loud and clear- what's bugging you, dear?” 

“There are rumors about us,” he blurts out, his words quick- rushed. “Around town,” he adds quietly, eyes flitting across your face, waiting for some sort of reaction. Anger. Disgust. Even surprise. 

He wasn't expecting guilt.

Covering your mouth, you force an awkward cough to hide your face, the tips of your ears tainting pink- giving you away.

“Ah, so uh… that got back to you already,” he leans forward again, this time eyes intent upon you, eyebrows raised.

“Kit, what did you do?” puffing in indignation, you fight off the pout forming on your lips. 

“Why must I have done something?”

“Kit,” his voice is strong, not harsh but firm.

“Fine,” you whine, flopping back into your seat, arms crossed, chin resting on your chest so you don't have to look him in the eye. “I may or may not have spread them,” you hum quietly, knowing full well that he can hear you. You expected many things- his own anger, confusion, maybe even disappointment. But he laughs. His hands folded over his face as his shoulders shake. 

Gaping at him, you huff a bit, flicking the hand that comes to rest on your knee in retaliation.

“Why are you laughing?” 

“I thought someone else spread them, I thought…” he pauses, taking a deep, settling breath, eyes dancing with mirth. “Why?” 

Fidgeting in your seat again, you sit up slightly, humming softly to yourself, gaze turning to the fire, fingers padding against your book.

“So um, the other night, at the tavern,” you begin, glancing at him slightly, he nods you along, eyes heavy on you- listening closely. “There was a guy- he couldn't… wouldn't keep his hands to himself. I threatened him, but he just seemed amused by it,” you mumble, toying with your fingers in your lap, eyes flicking up to meet his. He is watching you, eyes alight with a venom you haven't seen before. 

“I uh, just told him that you were my husband.” you continued, swallowing. “And that if he didn't stop that you would tear his arms off.”

“Name?” his voice is stiff, you frown. 

“You’re not going to rip his arms off, Eskel.” he just shakes his head slightly, eyeing his swords in the corner.

“Of course not. I just want to talk to him.”

--

Tag list: @errruvande @thesleepy1 @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @queenxxxsupreme @screechingdreamercollectorsblog @open--till--midnight @one-eyed-captain-kinky

@seidenbros @cosmos-coma @deanmcogorman

If you would like to be added to the tag list, please send me a message or ask or something.

[tobesobri]

Traditions | 17.3k

a/n: it's been a while since I uploaded writing and for some reason I decided to sign up for this challenge and by some miracle actually managed to write something for it 🤯anyways, this is for the Valentine's Day Challenge by @1dffchallenges and it's honestly just a bit of fun, enemies to lovers little bit of angst and some smut! so i hope you enjoy! I'd always love to know your thoughts!! (also pls excuse any errors, I wrote this in a week with little editing lol)

prompt: doube date

dialogue: “So let me get this right. You want to hire me as your date for a Valentine’s Day Party?”

Pink and red were speckled throughout the entire office, whether it was a bouquet of chocolate roses, a banner of hearts, or stuffed bears residing next to bowls full of heart-shaped candies. Every employee’s section of the office had been filled to the brim with decorations as well. Pink and red ribbon taped carefully around the edges of their desktop computer, little store-bought balloons, also heart-shaped, grouped together and tied to desk chairs. 

And Y/N, dressed in her typical all black outfit, rolled her eyes as she paced through the office toward the one section in the back that was immune to all things heart-shaped, pink, or stuffed. 

She sat down at her desk with a loud sigh, her purse hitting the floor in its usual spot just before she slipped out of her jacket and draped it haphazardly between her back and the chair. It’d be wrinkled by the end of the day, but she didn’t care all that much, nor did she put much thought into the stains on her purse from leaving it on the floor. All she concerned herself with, after settling in, was getting straight to work… which was put on hiatus when she came face-to-face with both a pink and heart-shaped sticky note plastered onto the center of her computer screen. 

Groaning, she ripped it off and moved to turn her computer on before she bothered to read whatever was written on the note. She considered three potential suspects while she pulled her keyboard down onto her desk and logged in. There was Kayla, who worked front reception and was one of the main culprits of all the Valentine’s decorations. A strong contender. It could’ve also been Ines or Carmen, her closest work friends whom Y/N knew both owned a pad of pink, heart-shaped sticky notes. 

However, when she finally let her eyes fall to the note as her computer loaded up, the handwriting didn’t match any of the women she knew, and she was quite positive that none of them would have written was was sprawled out in black ink either.

Roses are red, violets are blue. I will fill your office with teddy bears and balloons, if you don’t send me your half of the proposal by two.

Harry.

She crumpled the note and tossed it into the bin under her desk. He could go fuck himself for all she cared. Sure, she was nearly done with her portion of the work and would be able to send it to him before then, but now that he’d pestered her about it, he’d be lucky if she even bothered to send it to him at all. 

She didn’t doubt the promise, i.e. threat, he made on the note, but being surrounded by teddy bears and balloons would be worth making Harry’s life just a tad miserable.

After opening all the apps she’d need to get her work done, namely Photoshop and Illustrator, she connected her drawing tablet and set up the rest of her work station for the day, both on screen and off.

Harry had worked at the company for about two years longer than her and she’d started off as an intern while she was still in college and, after graduating, was hired as a permanent graphic designer. They had never really gotten along ever since Harry—jokingly—asked her to get him a coffee once… or twice. Unfortunately for her, though, they ended up working well together and their boss had stuck them both on the same projects ever since. Especially after the month-long project last spring that had been their most successful one to date. 

While she came up with the design parts of client projects, Harry handled the more technical side of things and they’d never really argued much over each other’s work even though they clashed constantly at a more personal level. 

“I see your feeling festive.” Just as she’d gotten into the groove of her typical morning and had forgotten all about Harry’s stupid note, his voice interrupted her entire thought process. So when she swiveled around to find him leaning into her little office space, it was hardly a surprise when she glared at him, even though he feigned offense at her bitterness.

“You got my note, I presume.” He let himself into her space anyway, holding a mug of steaming coffee she was sure he’d just made in the workroom, and leaned up against the opposite side of her desk that housed a much larger, digital drawing tablet for when she needed to do more intricate design pieces. 

She just swiveled back around to face her computer again and went back to work as if he was no longer there. Pretending to ignore his existence proved to be quite difficult when the very particular woodsy, vanilla scents of his cologne met her nostrils and filled her entire office. Not to mention, the sight of what he’d been wearing singed the backs of her eyelids so that she still saw him every time she blinked. It was as if her brain refused to let her forget what he looked like in his white button-up, sleeves rolled to the crooks of his elbows, all tucked into his fitted black trousers that tended to get the imaginations going of all the women in the building. 

Not her though, of course. She was better than that. Obviously.

He cleared his throat, still very much present in her space and still very much giving her a migraine. “So will it be ready by two?”

“Well, I planned to send it to you before lunch.” She tweaked the spacing between letters of a potential logo for the millionth time. “But now… I think I might need the rest of the day.”

She heard rustling behind her and knew he was shifting his weight impatiently and running a hand through his hair as he often did when he was… displeased. “I told you I’m leaving early tomorrow and I need it no later than two.”

She cocked her head to the side, still staring at her computer screen and not giving him an ounce of satisfaction. “Did you tell me that?” She teased, an amused smirk lifting the corners of her mouth when she heard him groan behind her. “I must’ve forgotten.” Shrugging, she went back to her work.

“Unlike you,” he snapped, “some of us actually have a love life and I’d appreciate you not fucking up mine.”

She froze then, only for a split second, when his words sank in. Two thoughts raced through her head. The first a string of curse words because of his assumption that she didn’t have a love life. But the more prominent and worrisome part of his statement was that he did have one. And that he was leaving early tomorrow—Valentine’s Day—so he could get ready for a date.

Throwing both her prickly exterior and heartbreaking smirk up again, she turned to face him. “I’ve known you for three years now and if anyone has the potential to fuck up your love life, it’s you.”

He narrowed his eyes at her and her gaze fell to the hand that seemed to wrap a bit tighter around his Bugs Bunny mug. His knuckles whitened and she met his heated stare again, pleased with herself for getting him riled up before he’d even finished his morning coffee.

“So,” she continued before he get get a word of retaliation out, and sat back against her chair, crossing her legs confidently as she folded her hands in her lap. “Who’s the poor girl you’ve tricked into going on a date with you this time?”

Harry had a terrible track record. The longest relationship he’d been in lasted for two months, and that was well before she’d known him. Everything else he had was just a one or two night thing and nothing more. Sure, it was all more than she had, but she preferred it that way. Harry seemed to resent the fact that he couldn’t keep a girlfriend to save his life.

“You don’t know her.”

Her smile widened. “How long have you been seeing her?”

“Couple weeks.”

“Ooh, that just might be your second longest relationship, Styles.” 

“Well at least I’ve had one.”

His jab didn’t have an affect on her however, and he knew it wouldn’t because it never did. He knew she didn’t give a damn about relationships, or at least that’s what she claimed anyway. He couldn’t think of many twenty-four year old women who actually wanted to be alone. He actually couldn’t think of a mid-twenties anyone who wanted that.

“You’ll have to try harder than that.” She said nonchalantly, which irked him even more than he already was, and then swiveled away from him one last time, picking up her drawing pen and getting back to work.

“What’s your issue with relationships?” He went on and she knew he was headed right down a path intended to hurt her feelings just as much as she had his. So, she tensed slightly and braced for impact. “Is it a commitment thing? Or can you just not find anyone to put up with you for longer than five minutes?” 

She let his words sink their teeth in and then smiled to herself. “Hm. Seeing as you’ve been in my office now for,” she checked the time at the top right-hand corner of her screen, “eight minutes, maybe we should date.” She lifted a brow, awaiting his next response. 

It felt a bit like a cat-and-mouse chase bickering with Harry and since she was usually the cat, it brought her way too much pleasure fighting with him.

He scoffed. “Like I’d lower my standards for you.”

That one hurt, she had to admit. Not out loud or to Harry, but it still stung because it was true. He’d have to drop his standards to the floor to even consider dating her and she knew it. 

“Maybe,” she began, still half focused on her work, and ignored his comment all together, “some of us like being alone.”

“Nobody likes that.” He responded quickly and she heard a shift of his weight again and then his voice once more a few moments later. “It’s nice to be by yourself sometimes, yeah, but you can’t tell me you don’t want someone to come home to at the end of the day.” He crossed one leg over the other as he gripped the edge of her desk for support and just when she thought he was done, he kept going, “Someone you can vent to about your annoying co-worker.”

She glanced at him through the little portable mirror hanging above her desk—mostly used to make sure she looked decent before meeting with clients or, sometimes, Harry—and saw the tight smile on his lips. Almost as if that’s what he wanted, like he was talking about himself and not her. 

She’d slowed her progress down while he’d talked until she was no longer working at all. She no longer swiped her pen across the pad or had any idea what she was even doing when she focused solely on his words. Because, once again, whether he was talking about himself or about her, he was right.

“Yeah well,” she quickly hid herself back behind her wall and made her hands function properly again. “Some of us also don’t have the luxury of choosing whomever we want.”

She imagined him smirking at that one because, buried deep within her words was a compliment. That he was handsome enough to actually have anyone he wanted.

Instead, when she glanced at the mirror again and found him, there was the complete opposite of a smirk on his face, and as he stared down into his mug, clearly lost in thought, she wondered what the tightness in his jaw and the frown pulling on his lips meant.

She sighed and stole his attention away from his coffee. “I’ll have it to you before lunch. You can go now, unless you’d like to argue some more and slow me down by another…” she glanced at her clock again, adding up all the time he’d been standing in her office, “fifteen minutes.”

Without another word, she listened to the drag of his footsteps as he finally left her office space. And although she was glad to be rid of his distraction, the room felt so much bigger and so much colder and emptier without him in it. Shivering, she slipped back into her jacket and spent the next few hours doing nothing but staring straight ahead at her screen as she made final adjustments to her designs. 

Any other conversations with Harry were had over email as he worked in his own respective office, messaging her with every little concern he had in order to get his work done efficiently so that he wasn’t stressing to finish it tomorrow before he had to leave. Even though Y/N considered not responding to him a few times, just to spite him and slow him down for her own amusement, she found herself feeling guilty after leaving him hanging a couple times. Sure, she hated Valentine’s Day and everything surrounding it, but she’d almost hate even more the idea of both her and Harry being miserable tomorrow, so she inevitably gave in and cooperated with him. She’d probably regret it when he came back on Thursday spreading around the office all the gory details of his date, but at least he wouldn’t also be in a shitty mood. Her days were both boring and slow whenever Harry wasn’t having a good day. And although she’d blame it all on selfish reasons, it did also make her sad to see him frowning around the office and sulking when all she wanted to do was bicker with him and make him smile again, even just a little bit. But it was easier leaving him to his own devices than risk him finding out she cared about him enough to not wish sadness upon him.  

She couldn’t say the same for him. Harry probably relished in the days she came into the office in a sour mood. He probably celebrated and threw a party whenever she was upset, and, even so, it didn’t change how she felt about him.

The sun had long set and most of the office was gone by the time she finally called it quits and began packing up her things and giving her computer a rest for the night. There were still quiet murmurs from other workaholic employees, which comforting her knowing she wasn’t completely alone in the building, since the last time she’d done that, it took everything in her not to have a panic attack all the way to her car. 

Even though her boss told her countless times not to stay past five o’clock, as he told every other female employee that worked for him that he didn’t wish to see attacked after sunset in the city. Of course, when she was the only one who didn’t listen to him, he hired more guards and one of them rounded the corner into her office space, ready to escort her all the way down to her car.

“Figured you were still here.” He leaned against the walls of her cubicle and watched as she startled, twisting to meet his eyes for a moment before she settled and returned to slipping her belongings into her purse. 

“I don’t need you to escort me.” Zipping her purse, she rose from her chair, checking one last time across her desk to make sure she’d grabbed everything she needed to take home with her before turning to him as he still lingered in the opening of her little office. 

William had been hired a couple months ago, and was only a year older than her, but even so he was more than a foot taller than her and his biceps were about as big as her head. While the entire office drooled over him, she tended to keep her eyes and her thoughts to herself. 

“You say that every night you stay late. Just let me do my job and shut up about it.” He smirked at her and when her eyes met his again, sharply, glaring at him, she groaned and whirled past him toward the elevators. He followed swiftly behind, knowing she’d close the doors on him if he didn’t keep close enough pace with her, mostly because she’d done it before.

As he took his spot beside her and she pressed the button for the parking garage at the basement of the building, a familiar voice rang out through the office.

“Wait!” As if she wasn’t already annoyed enough with William’s presence, his stupidly large arm held the elevator doors open as Harry slipped inside a moment later.

“Thanks, mate.” Harry said exclusively to William as he caught his breath and stood wedged in the middle between the guard and Y/N, who was inching closer and closer into her corner to get away from Harry.

“You have any plans tomorrow?” Harry asked, his attention solely on William again while the elevator took off down through the levels of their building. Not fast enough for Y/N, of course.

William sighed, crossing his arms and trying to resist smiling. “Me and my girlfriend take turns surprising each other every year. And it’s her turn this year… so I guess I have plans, but I don’t know what they are.”

“Damn, way to make us feel incompetent.”

Y/N whirled her head to glare up at the side of Harry’s face. “Speak for yourself.” She warned.

Harry just ignored her though. “What did you guys do last year?”

Again, William stifled a grin. “I had been saving up for a while and took us both to Paris.”

“Shit.” Harry’s eyebrows rose and Y/N rolled her eyes away from him, watching the LED screen above the elevator doors as they neared the bottom levels of the building. She knew Harry and William had become friends, mostly because Harry was annoying and befriended everyone. Except her, of course. She heard his stupid voice again and wished she could just transport herself directly into the front seat of her car and be done with the both of them. “And now she has to do better than Paris.”

Y/N glanced around Harry just in time to see William smirk and she should have known what was about to come out of his mouth before it did. “Well, I don’t consider much better than her mouth ar—“

Y/N cut him off. “Ew! Are you serious?”

Both men eyed her curiously just as the elevator came to a stop and, with a ding, the doors opened. She flew toward them quickly.

“Y/N wait, I have to—“

Again, she cut him off, turning once she was out on solid ground. “I’ll be fine, besides trying to rid my mind of that image you just burned into it.” She turned on her heel and headed off toward her car.

William made a move toward her and Harry grabbed his arm, “I’ll walk her. Forgot she’s a bit of a prude.” They shared an amused look and Harry jogged out onto the concrete and asphalt until he reached her side.

“I heard that, you know… and I know for a fact your car is not parked in this direction.” She seethed and he just smiled to himself, happier than ever that she was in the mood to bicker with him, because he wasn’t quite in the mood to leave yet, where he’d have to wait till tomorrow morning at nine-thirty to see her again. And she wasn’t always the most talkative person on Valentine’s Day, either.

“Why are you the only female in our building not foaming at the mouth over him?” He asked instead, referring to William.

He heard her scoff. “Just because he’s attractive doesn’t mean I have to be interested… or want to hear about his girlfriend sucking his—“

“Cock?” Harry finished for her and within a second she spun around to face him, forcing him to stop in his tracks just inches from her now. His smirk only grew when he saw just how quickly he’d gotten her all flustered. 

And then, as they started each other down, the hardness in her face softened and she drew out a breath, forcing his eyes to fall to her lips and his smirk to fall from his mouth. He thought back to last spring, when there were numerous late nights with her just like this one. When he went home and couldn’t stop thinking about…

“Why are you looking at me like that?” She asked and he blinked a couple times before he lifted his eyes.

“Like what?” He furrowed his brows, trying to track down all the resentment he had for her but he couldn’t find it anywhere anymore. He couldn’t summon it and say something that would save his ass from being caught looking at her like he wanted to kiss her.

Like he wanted to taste her and feel her against him, and hear what she sounded like when he tugged at her hair for more.

“Nevermind.” She shook her head, silencing the chaos going on in his brain. And then she turned, continuing the walk to her car with or without him, but, when she heard the echoing click of his shoes against the asphalt once more, she knew she wasn’t rid of him yet.

“I don’t suppose you’ll give me a ride back to my car, will you?” He easily stepped back into place beside her like nothing had happened.

She didn’t say anything for much longer than he was comfortable with. And then, finally, they reached her car and she sighed. “Get in before I change my mind.”

As she went for the driver’s side, he took quick steps to the opposite side, watching her over the top of her little Honda as she unlocked her door, and then, after clicking the button, his door as well. They both slipped in at the same time and while she fastened her seatbelt and settled in for her drive home, he sat perched with his backpack in his lap, knowing he’d be out of her car within only a couple minutes.

He still glanced around at his surroundings as she backed out of her parking space. “Should’ve guessed your car would be as neat as your desk.”

She didn’t say anything as she drove in the opposite direction of the exit toward the section of the garage Harry always parked in. It was closer to the elevators because he always came in before her and snagged a prime spot. She preferred an extra few minutes of sleep over walking an extra fifty steps.

And he started up again when she continued to not talk to him. “Most artists I know of are super messy.”

“I’m not an artist.” She gritted out through her teeth as she came to a stop once she spotted the rear-end of Harry’s BMW. Although she knew it well enough to distinguish it from the other black BMWs in the garage, it also helped that Harry had an old, faded license plate cover filled with a collage of cute pictures of puppies. He’d said it won him bonus points with women, but she also knew his screensaver at work was a picture of puppies as well, and no women he was interested in ever saw that.

He peeled his eyes off his car and looked over at her. “I know you can draw, too.”

She paused, gripping her steering wheel. She did enjoy both art and design and she knew Harry knew the difference between the two. She just didn’t know why he always insisted on bugging her about it. 

“Yeah, well that doesn’t make me an artist.”

When he didn’t say anything, she glanced at him just in time to find him shrugging a shoulder like he was agreeing to disagree. Even if she couldn’t draw, he’d still consider her an artist because the things she managed to design always blew his mind and if that wasn’t art… 

She rolled her eyes. “Are you going to get out, or do I have to drag you?”

He grinned, and it was almost as if her eyes refused to see anything else but his dimples and the bright whites of his teeth, and the birthmark to the side of his mouth… 

“I’m going.” He assured, and yet he still hadn’t moved an inch. “Even though I’d love to see you try to drag me.” With her knuckles whitening on the steering wheel, he chuckled and unzipped the small pocket on the front of his backpack, withdrawing his keys as he finally swung her door open.

Once he was out, he gripped the top of the door and leaned back in to find her staring straight ahead. “Drive carefully, yeah? Would be quite tragic for your bitter ass to die on Valentine’s Day.”

She reached over and, despite having to brush her knuckles along the side of his thigh, grabbed the handle of the passenger door and yanked. His body remained in her way, however, and he was unfortunately a lot stronger than her.

Then she finally looked up at him, and those thoughts he had earlier surfaced again as much as he’d tried to bury them. This time though, he didn’t fight it as he glanced at her lips once more, then back at her eyes, which had widened slightly just before the dimples reappeared in his cheeks. “And I guess I would miss bickering with you every day.”

With that, he was gone and she retreated back to her seat as he shut the door for her. She had no idea what to think about what had just happened. Why he’d looked at her like that again. What that look even meant. 

By the time she reached the freeway, she’d convinced herself she was just seeing things. Harry wasn’t looking at her in any other way he had before when he was intent on pestering her. But, as she took in the scent of him still lingering in the cabin, she allowed a small part of her to hope she was wrong.

Her eyes fell on the man down the hall from her door as she slipped her key into the lock, her brows furrowing as she watched him. It wasn’t unusual for their paths to cross, as they tended to get home around the same time, but it was quite odd to see him sitting on the floor outside his apartment, his head in his hands. 

They’d said hi to each other a couple times in the mailroom, but she definitely didn’t know him well enough to go up and ask what his issue was or try to fix it for him. And after it was confirmed that he hadn’t, in fact, lost his keys, as they sat beside him on the floor along with his phone, she figured it best to leave him be. 

Turning her key, she pulled her gaze from him and disappeared from the hallway.

The second she was inside her apartment, she felt all the weight lift right off her shoulders, especially when her cat came racing up, screaming at her from the floor while also coaxing her toward the kitchen to fill the food bowl. Whatever was going on with her neighbor still very much on her mind, she tried to focus instead on relaxing and getting both her and the screaming Pretzel some dinner. 

She tried to remember his name as she heated up leftover pasta. She knew it started with an A, but her brain was coming up short. So, while Pretzel crunched on his food in his corner of the kitchen, she tried her hardest to remember. 

And it was no question why she cared so much. Her neighbor was someone she was actually interested in, and she had been since she first saw him. Of course, she was never foolish enough to think he was into her, but she still let herself fantasize. He was tall, nearly black curly hair atop his head always in a state of disarray, and he had the most beautiful blue eyes she’d ever seen hidden behind his glasses. And, if she was being honest with herself, he was just a darker-haired version of Harry. Maybe that’s why she liked him.

The beeping of her microwave tore her thoughts from the dangerous path they’d been headed down. Harry’s voice rang in her head a moment later.

Like I’d lower my standards for you.

She’d needed to hear him say that, because sometimes her thoughts got carried away when it came to Harry and sometimes she did let herself be a fool who hoped. But after he’d said that one damning phrase, it was enough for her to stop. She didn’t meet a single one of his standards, inside or out. 

Still, she tried her hardest not to go back out into the hall and make sure her neighbor was alright. Maybe he just needed someone to talk to and it wasn’t like she was doing anything important. Even if she didn’t have a dumb crush on him, as she did Harry, she still didn’t enjoy seeing him in the state he’d been in.

Before she could work up the nerve, however, a knock sounded through her quiet apartment.

She held her breath as she opened her door, really hoping it wasn’t the boy from across the hall, since she was still blanking on his name, but she couldn’t imagine anyone else knocking on her door this late into the evening. 

So when she inevitably found him there, looking down at her through his annoyingly long lashes as she took in the horrible state he was in—red, inflamed eyes and hair that needed to see a brush rather than his hand—she completely lost her breath instead.

“Uh, sorry, I… saw you come in and I know we don’t talk and this is a weird thing for me to ask but…” He ran said hand through said messy hair and she found her breath again while looking up at him like she’d do whatever he’d asked just so he’d stop frowning.

He sighed, glancing down the hall toward his apartment and then met her curious and somewhat concerned gaze. “Can I come in?”

She recoiled. “Um… why?”

“Well, um, I was hoping you could help me with something and I’d rather not have the entire floor know about it.”

She was beyond confused now, but still, she stepped aside and let him pass, assuming that if he was actually a murderer he would have done her in a lot sooner than this. He had plenty of other opportunities. Plus, something in his face just… made her want to trust him.

She closed the door and turned to him, watching as his eyes scanned her kitchen and where her food still sat before he twisted around, eyes wide. “Shit, I’m sorry for interrupting.”

She shook her head. “It’s fine.” And after clearing her throat, she crossed her arms over her chest. “What do you, um… what do you need help with?”

He swallowed and she watched his Adam’s apple budge in his throat. “I don’t imagine you’ll like me very much after I ask but… I need a date.”

“What?” Again, she nearly flew out of her skin.

His eyes darted back and forth between hers, gauging her reactions and very obviously on the verge of seeing himself out and pretending this never happened. Instead, he stuffed away his pride and went on. “My ex… she, uh… well we broke up a few months ago and I saw her the other day and she’s seeing someone and we were talking and I… told her I was seeing someone too and so she invited me to go on this stupid double date with her… but the thing is… I’m not actually seeing anyone and I just told her that so she’d be jealous but she didn’t seem jealous at all and I don’t exactly have many friends to ask for help and I saw you and…” He rambled, but she managed to understand his predicament just fine. 

“A double date? With your ex?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know either. She’s… she does weird shit but… I still want her back.”

Y/N’s heart ached in her chest. As much as she detested relationships, she was a sucker for other people’s relationships and she was definitely a sucker for her beautiful neighbor, even if he was asking to use her to make his ex-girlfriend jealous.

“Not that I’m saying yes but… when? And where?” She finally asked after thinking things over for a moment.

“Tomorrow night… I can pay you. I will pay you, I mean… but, seriously, you don’t have to do it I just thought I would ask.”

“Where is this date at?” She repeated when he didn’t answer that part of her question.

“At this party… and bef—“

She cut him off. “Okay so let me get this right. You want to hire me as your date to a Valentine’s Day party?”

He lifted a brow, “Well, there’s more… she wants to get dinner before going to the party.”

She shook her head, looking away, “I don’t really do Valentine’s Day…”

“You wouldn’t have to do much. I’ll pay for your dinner, too. Whatever you want. I just… really need your help and you’re my only option.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You realize I’m not exactly…” she waved at her face and his eyebrows screwed together in confusion. “I’m not easy on the eyes and I don’t think taking me will make anyone jealous.”

He didn’t say anything for a while, just stared at her incredulously. She shifted her weight nervously and he finally opened his mouth. “You don’t actually think that, do you?”

Her features scrunched up and she kept her eyes planted on the middle of his chest. And then he realized that she, in fact, did.

“I’m so sorry… I shouldn’t have asked you to do this.” He also realized that using her to make his ex jealous would possibly hurt her more than it would help him and he could no longer fathom putting her through that. “I’ll figure it out. I’m sorry.” He moved to walk past her, back to his apartment but she stopped him before he got far.

“No… I’ll help you.” And then she realized his identity was still somewhat of a mystery to her. “This sounds even worse than what you just asked me to do, but… I completely forgot your name.”

He breathed out a laugh. “It’s Adam.”

She knew it had started with an A!

“Y/N.” 

He smiled wider and nodded. “I know.” And then his face grew sad again. “I am really sorry I’m asking you to do this on Valentine’s Day, it’s definitely not my proudest moment.”

She waved him off. “I wasn’t going to do anything anyway. Just tell me what you need me to do.” She didn’t bother brining up the whole payment thing. She didn’t really care about being paid. He was nice, the only nice person she’d encountered in her apartment building and if getting him back together with his ex meant she’d never have to come home and see him in the fetal position on the floor again, she’d suffer through a date and a party on her least favorite holiday.

It was somehow even worse than it’d been yesterday. The decorations seemed to triple in size. Not an inch of the office was untouched by something pink and she prayed whoever had put up even more decorations had spared her little cubicle.

“Oh, hey, Y/N!” One of the receptionists most responsible for the overflowing decor, Kayla, called her over to her desk not even a minute after Y/N had arrived. And she stalked over until she saw the package Kayla pulled out that instantly lifted her spirits.

She stopped in front of Kayla’s desk and took the thin box from from her, already knowing what it was and thanking god for the timing so that her entire day wasn’t completely miserable. It was a new drawing pad she’d ordered, a bigger one that she hoped would be a bit more efficient to use than her current one.

Even with her back turned to the rest of the office, she sensed Harry’s presence long before he stopped beside her with his mug in hand.

He lifted a brow at the package in Y/N’s hands just as she reluctantly turned to look at him. “Getting gifts sent to the office? That’s a first.”

She rolled her eyes and stuffed the box under her arm, holding herself back from running off to her office to set it up. “Jealous?” She cocked her head.

And instead of his condescending smirk and a hateful response to go with it, the sparkle in his eyes seemed to fade as he eyed the box again, genuinely worried now that it was actually a gift from someone. 

Before either could say anything, they all turned to find a delivery man walking up to Kayla with a giant bouquet of flowers in tow. And so it began. Although, when Kayla took the vase from the man eagerly, a bright smile on her face because Kayla loved love a little too much, Y/N couldn’t help but think about Adam. About how the only time she’d managed to get a date on Valentine’s Day was when it wasn’t even real. Instead, she’d stupidly agreed to help her cute neighbor win back his ex-girlfriend in exchange for a free dinner.

It was… pathetic. To say the least.

She felt Harry watching her, too, while she eyed the bouquet of flowers as they departed reception with Kayla and made their way to their recipient. As stupid as she found everything about the holiday, she couldn’t help but want someone to send her flowers. To give her anything for that matter. To have thought about her for at least a second of their day. Harry cleared his throat and she tore her eyes away.

“So… what’s in the box?”

“None of your business.” She rounded him, heading to her office, but he grabbed her free arm to stop her short and didn’t speak until she met his gaze again.

“Can we meet up in my office to finish the proposal? Think it’ll be easier to get it done than over email.”

She had every reason to be suspicious of him. They almost never worked in each other’s offices. When they did work together, which was often, it was in one of the empty conference rooms and it was usually at the beginning of the process when they needed the space to plan things out. The last time they’d really been in each other’s offices was last spring. Figuring he just wanted to get things done so he could be out of the office on time, she let it go.

“Give me fifteen minutes.”

He watched her walk away, watched her even as Kayla returned and noticed his gaze and giggled at him as she took her spot back behind her desk.

“It was something she ordered for herself, by the way.”

“What?” Harry whipped around again, not having even realized the other woman until now.

“I know you two pretend to hate each other but I see the way you look at her, Harry.” Kayla lifted a brow at him as she began typing on her keyboard.

He feigned disgust. “I’m seeing someone, you know.”

“Are you?”

“Yes.” He insisted. “I have a date. Tonight.”

She lifted her hands in surrender. “Okay… I’m just saying.”

“I don’t look at her.”

Kayla suppressed a smile and snorted instead. “If you say so. I guess you didn’t also sneak into her office this morning, either.”

“I think all these flowers and stuffed bears and heart-shaped things have gotten to your head.” He pointed around to the decor littering her desk while holding his mug steady.

Kayla met his eyes and her smile slipped off her face. “Harry, please don’t mess with her.”

His face screwed up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“If you don’t like her then don’t lead her on.”

“I don’t think she’s capable of being led on.”

Kayla froze for a moment and then nodded. “You’re right.”

He wasn’t sure what she meant by that either. “Why are you being weird?”

“Because,” Kayla sighed, brushing her curled brunette hair onto one shoulder and then lowered the volume of her voice. “I happen to know she doesn’t think very highly of herself and I’d rather not see her get hurt, especially not by you.”

Now Harry froze. The hand that gripped his mug tightened and he didn’t even flinch as it began to burn his skin. He heard Y/N’s voice in his head then as he drowned out his surroundings.

Some of us don’t have the luxury of choosing whomever we want.

He had instantly regretted what he’d said to her yesterday when she’d told him that. And now hearing Kayla, in a way, confirm what he’d read between the lines of Y/N’s words… his chest tightened in quite possibly the worst way ever. He’d hated himself most of the day after telling her he’d never lower his standards for her and he could say he was just bickering all he wanted, but he knew now for certain she took it the wrong way. And he wished more than ever that he hadn’t said something so horrible to her, especially when it was the farthest thing from the truth. 

And the real truth, that he was trying desperately to shove away with stupid remarks like that, was that he didn’t meet her standards. She wasn’t into relationships and he knew he wasn’t good enough to change her mind.

“How do you know that?” He finally asked.

“That Christmas party last year… she’s a really happy drunk until she’s not.”

He flinched. “Did she say something?”

“I don’t want to get into it, mostly because I don’t think she remembers and would probably kill me if I told you but… just leave her be.”

He hardened back up again. “She does’t have any interest in relationships anyway, ‘specially not with me.”

Kayla scoffed. “She’s a really good liar.”

Harry stood there for a few more moments, feeling as if his life had just gotten flipped upside down. He’d been in such a good mood mere minutes ago before his dumbass waltzed into reception all because he’d seen Y/N. Because, despite everything and despite the fact he was already attempting to date someone else, it was Y/N he wanted to be close to all the damn time. Groaning, he turned on his heel and left for his office, hoping she wasn’t there waiting for him so he could have a moment to himself to gather his thoughts.

In a hurry to open her package, Y/N slumped down into her chair tossing her purse on the ground at her feet and pulling out her box cutter in a rush of movements. She was so distracted, in fact, that she didn’t even notice the little stuffed frog, the box of chocolates and envelope sitting on the other side of her desk near her mouse. Instead, she unboxed her new tablet and began setting it up, not noticing the gifts until she went to turn on her computer. And then she froze.

With reluctant hands she grabbed the envelope first, her name printed on it in perfect cursive. She knew nobody in the office who had such good penmanship. Opening the card in hopes of finding out who had placed the items on her desk, instead, she just found it signed as ‘secret admirer.’ Rolling her eyes, she set the card down and realized it had to be from her boss. Sometimes he remembered to go around and give everyone little gifts on the holidays. Obviously he’d remembered this year. 

She dug into the chocolates as she set up her tablet and began calibrating it to suit her needs before finally testing it out in the little bit of time she had before she needed to make her way to Harry’s office. 

And once that time came, she left everything in its place, besides the box of chocolates, which she continued to pick at while she made her way through the room. What she didn’t notice while stuffing her face with candy was that… no one else had a stuffed frog or chocolates or a cheesy little card on their desks.

She rounded the corner into Harry’s office, which was a real office and not a cubicle that he usually shared with one other person who was thankfully out with clients for the day. She knocked on the doorframe to get his attention after just watching him focus on his screen for a moment. Harry was cute when he was focused.

But then he turned to her and his eyes fell to the box in her hand.

When he didn’t say anything, she held it out toward him. “Do you want some? I think Andrew was feeling generous this year.”

Harry’s eyes quickly panned up to hers and his brows furrowed as if she’d just punched him in the gut. And she couldn’t make out what that expression meant no matter how hard she tried. 

“He didn’t give me anything.” Harry motioned around his desk.

“Maybe he doesn’t like you.” She shrugged, setting the chocolates down on his desk while she grabbed his office mate’s chair and pulled it up beside him.

Harry sighed, turning to his computer for a moment and then watching her from his peripheral while she picked out another piece of chocolate. “I didn’t see anyone else with chocolates on their desks this morning.”

Y/N just shrugged. “There was a frog too. And a card.”

“And why do you think he’d give you all of that and no one else?” Harry hoped she’d get the hint but he didn’t hope too hard. She was still Y/N after all. And he really didn’t mean to sound so bitter… well, okay, he did. But he knew she’d misplace his bitterness, crushing what little hope there was to bits.

“Maybe he likes me better than all the rest of you.”

Harry scoffed, shaking his head as he put his attention back on his screen. 

“No one else in this office would give me a card signed as a secret admirer so… maybe I did something I don’t remember doing and he’s thanking me?” Now that she really thought about it, and if Harry was right… then it really didn’t make  much sense. It’s not like she was Andrew’s favorite employee.

Harry just lifted a brow and then pretended to lose all interest. 

Sensing the tension, she slipped the box closer to him. “Here. I think you need a knock-off Snickers if you expect me to work with your grumpy ass.” He made no move to indulge her, however. And so she went on, continuing to poke the bear. “Why are you in a lousy mood anyway? Isn’t this your favorite holiday? And you get to leave early.”

His eyes fell from his screen and he stared at the brick of sticky notes below his monitor before mumbling, “I’m sorry about what I said yesterday.”

Taken aback, she searched what she could see of his face for answers to what he was apologizing for. He’d said a few things she could imagine deserved an apology and yet, so did she. Maybe she should have been the one to apologize to him first.

“I didn’t mean to say what I did.” He finally turned to meet her face on. He’d hoped the frog and the chocolates would have been atonement enough, but considering she thought they were from their boss and not him, he just had to suck it up and actually say what he meant.

She shrugged. “It’s fine. I can be a prude sometimes.”

He searched her eyes for a moment and then shook his head, “No that’s not… I meant what I said earlier in your office… about lowering my standards. It was a stupid thing to say and not true in the slightest.”

But then she smiled and he grew confused. “Yes it is. It’s okay to have standards, you know.”

“I know that. But if we… I wouldn’t have to lower my standards. And it was cruel of me to have said that to you.”

She couldn’t stand looking at him any longer and averted her gaze, clearing her throat. “Well it doesn’t matter so… can we just get this proposal done?”

He’d wanted to spend how ever long it took to convince her that it did, in fact, matter, but Y/N was persistent, more so than him, and so he’d given in and they moved on to being productive with their time. And in less time than he’d anticipated their proposal was finished, being sent off to Andrew for approval before their presentation at the end of the week with their clients.

Harry sat back in his chair and she returned her own to the other desk where it belonged, all while he watched her. 

“What do you do on Valentine’s Day?” He asked, just trying to get her to stay longer, knowing that if those were his true intentions, then he was fucked. That he wanted to be around Y/N, even though he was seeing someone else, albeit for just a week so far, even though she’d never want the same from him. 

Maybe he was just as terrible with relationships as she claimed if he always chased after what he couldn’t have.

“That is also none of your business.” She grabbed her box of chocolates from his desk, his voice pinning her in place again though.

“Let me guess… it involves chocolate, your cat, and the most anti-romantic movies you can find?”

He would not think her very prudish if he knew what else she did on Valentine’s Day while alone in her apartment, but she figured it was best to keep that to herself. Instead, she smiled at him. “Something like that.”

He narrowed his eyes and threw his arms up behind his head as he laid back in his chair, watching her curiously like he was trying to figure her out. Meanwhile, she was trying to not make it obvious she was staring at his biceps as they just about bulged from underneath the sleeve of his pink button-up. He’d done it on purpose though, so as much as she tried to hide it, he still grinned with satisfaction when she became flustered.

“Well, have fun with that, then.” He nodded, and for a moment while she was lost in his eyes and growing embarrassingly hot, she wondered if he could read her mind. If he knew exactly what not-so-innocent things she did on Valentine’s Day. Then he brought his arms back down to rest his elbows on the edge of his desk, pinching his bottom lip between his fingers and watching as she rolled her eyes, held her chocolates close, and left his office. 

Adam arrived right when he said he would at five-thirty. It had given her plenty of time to change out of her work clothes and into one of the few dresses she owned, to at least seem somewhat convincing that this was a real date. She also fixed her makeup and put on a pinkish-nude lipstick before switching out her bulky purse for a smaller crossbody. 

When she opened the door to him, he most certainly did not disappoint. She almost let herself get lost in the delusion that it was a real date when she saw him dressed to the nines and cleaned up for the first time since she’d known him. And she especially got a little lost in it when he pulled a small bouquet of flowers from behind his back and handed them to her. 

“You didn’t have to—“

“I know.” He gave her a once over when she wasn’t looking. “You didn’t have to do this for me either.”

She quietly accepted the flowers and let him in while she found a vase and filled it with water. He leaned on the counter, watching her as she did so.

“You look… beautiful, by the way.” He blurted out once she had cut and placed the stems into the vase. Her hands froze, though, and when he met her eyes, he knew he’d made a mistake.

“You’re paying me to make your ex-girlfriend jealous. Please don’t flatter me.”

“Sorry.” He muttered, although he was beginning to wonder if the bigger mistake was not taking her out on a proper date that had nothing to do with his ex. 

She sighed and adjusted the strap of her purse. “Let’s go then.”

He went over all the final details on the Uber ride to the restaurant. Things about his ex he thought Y/N should know about. And he made sure she knew, for about the hundredth time, that she didn’t have to do anything she didn’t want to. And she reminded him for an equal amount of times that she never did anything she didn’t want to do. So, settling that, he helped her out of the back of the Uber when they arrived and opened the door to the restraint for her as well. Everything that she’d expect from a normal date, which only left her disappointed when she reminded herself it wasn’t.

She waited quietly, and tried to catch her nerves, while Adam talked to the hostess and gave her his ex’s name for the reservation. The place was packed and anyone who didn’t call ahead surely would not be getting a table tonight. She’d never been out on Valentine’s Day, though, so it was like stepping into a brand new world for her. And as she followed both the hostess and Adam, she paid more attention to all the couples enjoying their meals than anything else.

Except for when he reached back and grabbed her hand, entwining their fingers just before they came to a stop. She blinked her eyes at their hands for just a moment before he gently pulled her around next to him. And whatever way she’d felt about holding Adam’s hand went right out the window when she locked eyes with Harry.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

The last thing she expected to find, while Laura, the gorgeous blonde ex-girlfriend, stood to hug Adam, was Harry fucking Styles. And what a fucking coincidence it was, almost as if this was her karma for feeling the need to constantly help people. 

Adam’s hand slipped from hers but she didn’t even notice it anyway. She and Harry still stared each other down and neither of them moved a muscle either. Well, besides the one in his jaw as it tightened. Then he did move, glancing over at Adam with a blank expression before landing his gaze back on her again. And then his eyes fell to the glass of water in front of him and she felt like she’d been released from chains he’d tied around her wrists.

“This is Y/N,” Adam’s hand went to the small of her back, guiding her forward to meet his ex-girlfriend and Harry’s current… whatever they were. 

Laura held out her hand, her smile a little too forced. “Laura. It’s nice to meet you. Please, sit.” She ushered them to the table as she took her spot beside Harry again. Adam, of course, took the chair opposite Laura, which left Y/N in the one opposite Harry. 

This would be a long, hellish night.

She couldn’t help but wonder what Harry was thinking. That maybe she’d come to crash his date. Or, even worse, that he’d already figured the whole thing out. That Adam was paying her to be here. She really hoped he’d never find out because it was just embarrassing enough to make her want to change her name and move across the country, thousands of miles away from him. Harry finding out that she couldn’t get a real date to save her life… beyond humiliating.

“This is Harry.” Laura motioned to him and he just barely lifted his gaze, nodding at Adam and ignoring Y/N entirely. “You know,” the blonde went on, glancing between Adam and Y/N, “I was a little shocked when you told me you were seeing someone again.”

Adam just shrugged.

“How did you guys meet?” 

Y/N left all the talking to him. Mostly because she was still in shock that she was sitting across from Harry. And she hadn’t even taken the time to properly take him in and realized he’d also changed his clothes since work. Swapping his wardrobe out for a fitted black button-up, that wasn’t buttoned all the way to the top as his shirts normally were. The sleeves were already rolled to his elbows. He’d shaved off the scruff along his jaw as well and fixed his hair so that it was combed back out of his face, although a a couple rebellious strands hung down onto his forehead. He looked… like absolute perfection. And he was being forced to be on a date with the ex-boyfriend of the girl he was seeing and his annoying co-worker. She felt terrible for him.

“Oh, uh, well we live on the same floor.”

Laura nodded, clearly anticipating more. “Is that it?”

Y/N felt Adam tense up beside her and so she took over, easily spinning a lie. “I ran out of milk one night a few weeks ago. He’s the only one who answered the door.”

She noticed a flash of movement in her peripheral and turned to find Harry’s gaze on her again, one eyebrow lifted curiously. He was either wondering how she hid it so well, or trying to figure out what to ask in order to reveal their ploy. He never said anything, though.

“Sorry, um,” Laura’s tone changed as she glanced between Harry and Y/N, both of them looking away when the other girl interrupted. “Do you two know each other?”

Harry grinned, sitting back against his seat and folding his hands in his lap. “Something like that.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “We work together.”

“Really?” Although her tone said otherwise, Laura’s face said everything about how she felt upon hearing that bit of information. 

Adam twisted his worrisome gaze to Y/N, but she ignored it. Harry, however, did not.

“Don’t worry, mate. I was under the impression she was celibate up until now.” With that, Y/N kicked him under the table and he sat forward to swallow the groan that very nearly left his lips after she’d jabbed him in the shin with the toe of her heels. “Guess she’s really good at hiding things, though.”

Adam just chuckled nervously and Y/N shot him an apologetic smile, trying to reassure him that this date would still work out despite Harry. 

“What a small world.” Laura laughed, trying to break the tension but dinner hadn’t even started yet. 

Sometime during the main course, Laura excused herself to the bathroom and Y/N almost, in a desperate attempt to flee both Adam and Harry, invited herself along. But she figured it’d be worse to be alone with Laura than with them. Laura might ask questions she wasn’t prepared for. So, she stayed put, as much as it pained her to do so.

“So, Adam, what do you do for a living?” Harry asked suddenly and she wanted to kick him again. Mostly because his tone was that of a jealous teenager and he’d waited until Laura was gone to pester her ex-boyfriend who most certainly did not deserve Harry’s pestering.

“Oh, uh, I’m an artist. I work for an animation studio at the moment but I’m trying to get into freelance.”

Harry’s eyes shot to the suspiciously quiet girl sitting across from him. “So is Y/N.”

Adam turned to look at her, but she just glared at Harry. “Oh, I didn’t know that.”

Harry titled his head as he narrowed his attention in on Adam again. “So you’ve known her for a few weeks and you never asked what she did?”

“Harry.” Y/N warned, trying to kick him under the table again but he dodged out of the way.

“Well… she said she was in graphic design… not art.” She had told him that, during their crash course yesterday while they got to know as much as they could about each other in a span of a couple hours.

“I think it’s the same thing.”

Adam just shrugged. “I guess. I don’t think I could be a designer, though. Most artists make what they think looks good, designers create things to appeal to customers.”

“Just ignore him.” Y/N advised and Harry was the one shooting her daggers and attempting to stomp his foot on top of hers under the table this time.

“You and Laura used to date then? She never told me how you split up.” Harry moved on.

Adam swallowed nervously. “She broke up with me.”

“Why?” Harry pushed and Y/N looked at him like she wanted to kill him, which he ignored.

“I, uh… I had a drug problem for a while. I was not the best person to be around sometimes. But after we broke up, she helped me with rehab and everything.”

“Guess that explains why you’re on such good terms.”

Now Y/N really wanted to do more than just kick him. 

Adam grabbed Y/N’s hand under the table and pulled her straight from her violent thoughts about Harry. And he didn’t lace his fingers between hers, instead, it felt as if he had just been looking for something to ground himself with. And her hand resting on her lap was the closest thing he could find. It didn’t, however, go unnoticed by Harry and his jaw clenched as he stared at the point in the table where, just below, there their hands met almost as if he was trying to set everything on fire.

Laura returned shortly after that. 

As promised, Adam paid the entirety of both his and Y/N’s bill, even though she attempted to snag it from him, seeing as the date had gone to shit and it was all her fault. Well… maybe it was also Harry’s fault a little bit too. But she definitely did nothing to make Laura jealous. Adam, on the other hand, did a great job at making Harry jealous just by existing and being Laura’s ex, whom she was still friends with. 

The four of them stood outside on the curb awaiting their Uber after dinner was over, agreeing upon splitting one car to get to the party instead of taking two. Laura was apparently very cautious about fossil fuel consumption.

Y/N shivered as she stood between Adam and Laura, wishing she’d bright a jacket instead of relying on a long-sleeve dress to keep her warm. Then an arm wrapped around her shoulders and Adam pulled her close, running his hand up and down her arm to form heat. She tensed up, though, forming into an immovable brick. She had no idea the last time she’d been that close to another person, let alone a member of the opposite sex. When he felt her go rigid, he leaned down until his lips were at her ear. “Is this okay?”

She just nodded and tried to relax. Which turned out to be quite easy because Adam was warm and he smelled nice. She, of course, didn’t let her mind wander off too far. He was still in love with his ex. He’d still shove cash into her hand at the end of the night for her troubles and go on with his life.

Adam let go of her when the car pulled up and quickly went to the passenger door to confirm with the driver. Then he opened the back door for the three of them to climb in, Laura going first, then Harry, and, at last, Y/N, while Adam slipped into the front seat beside the driver.

While the car took off, Y/N was shoved into the corner when Harry moved closer to her in order to find both his and Laura’s seat buckles in the dark. Eventually, he settled back into the middle and gave her some space again. When she made no move to do the same as them, Harry turned to look down at her. 

“Put your seatbelt on.” He whispered.

Her eyes whirled up to his. Wordlessly, and of course after rolling her eyes, she grabbed her seatbelt and he made room for her to buckle it in. Then she sat back in her seat, crossing her arms over her chest while she stared out at the traffic through her window.

She would have stayed in that exact position the entire trip, too, if Harry’s knee didn’t insist on bumping into hers constantly. And she couldn’t tell if he was doing it on purpose or not.

When she glanced up at him, and found the corner of his lips curl upward, she figured it was, in fact, purposeful. So, with the hand closest to him as her arms were still crossed, she poked him in the side, right against his ribs, hoping it hurt.

“Ouch.” He whined, covering the spot with his hand dramatically. Everyone in the car glanced at Harry, all except for Y/N who snickered as she returned to staring out the window.

Harry wasn’t giving up, though. This time, with his arms crossed in his lap, and glancing at Laura to be sure she wasn’t watching, he walked his pointer and middle finger up the outside of Y/N’s thigh, close enough to her hip to make her squirm slightly when his touch tickled her. And as soon as he got her attention, he looked down at what he was doing and pressed his middle finger against her, meeting her gaze with a smirk.

In the same moment, the driver turned up the music in the car as they waited tirelessly at a red light. It was better than silence or listening to his passengers breathing. But Harry mentally thanked him and turned his attention back to Y/N, leaning into her slightly until his lips were at her ear and she shivered for an all new reason.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a dress before.” He whispered for her ears only. The music was especially loud in the back and he wasn’t sure Y/N had even heard him.

Especially since she didn’t respond right away. But how could she? Harry’s fingertips were still grazing her thigh, as if trying to emphasize the dress she had on. And his stupid knee was pressed right up against hers. She couldn’t think straight.

Though when she finally turned to him and whispered back, “Don’t get used to it,” he knew she had, in fact, heard him well enough. 

He leaned again, “Afraid I already am.” 

She hated that there were butterflies in her stomach. That he was saying such odd things to her when his date was sitting just on the other side of him. The date who most definitely met all Harry’s standards.

Huddling away from him, she stuck her eyes out the window and kept them there the rest of the trip.

It was just past eight when they arrived, a fifteen-minute trip up through the city taking half an hour due to all the Valentine’s Day traffic. Another reason she hated this holiday.

The party was being held by Laura’s best friend, who’s name Y/N did not care to commit to memory. In the elevator ride up to the penthouse, though, Harry stood close to Laura, his arm wrapped around her waist and Adam to Y/N, although he didn’t touch her. She wouldn’t have minded if he did, but she figured it was best to keep those boundaries in place anyway.

Pink and golden balloons littered the ceilings of the penthouse. The drink cups were also pink, as was the communal punch bowl that Y/N steered clear of, having no idea what was in it, or who had already spiked it. She knew nobody at the party besides who she’d come with, though she assumed both Adam and Harry were somewhat acquainted with Laura’s friends. 

It was most definitely not someplace Y/N ever saw herself being at, not only because it was a Valentine’s themed party, but also because she wasn’t exactly comfortable around so many people. Especially when those people were all so unfamiliar to her.

“Here,” Adam handed her a drink and then grabbed one for himself. She downed the thing in one go, needing to take the edge off. It might’ve been a slight mistake when the alcohol burned the back of her throat, but she didn’t care too much when she grabbed another.

Then he was leading her into the dancing pit of bodies where they huddled close enough so that his lips were at her ear. “Is it alright if I touch you?”

She glanced over at where Laura and Harry had been left, finding both her hazel eyes and Harry’s green ones glued to the both of them. She wasn’t sure what Harry’s deal was, but this was her moment to fix things and make Laura jealous, so, turning back to Adam, she nodded.

He eased his hands onto her waist as they began swaying to the music. And then he pulled her closer, his hands slipping to the small of her back as her arms wrapped around his neck, being careful with her own movements even though she desperately wanted to sink her hands in his hair.

And, god, he smelled so good as her head rested in the crook of his neck. And he felt good, too, as he moved against her body. She knew it wasn’t real, and that the alcohol was making skewing her perception of things, but it was still nice. Nice to be held and to just let go for a change.

Over Adam’s shoulder, Y/N caught Harry’s eyes again. His jaw clenched and he looked the same as he did back at the restaurant. Angry. And then she realized that maybe she wasn’t really trying to make Laura jealous anymore at all, but rather Harry.

It was dumb, she knew that. He’d have to like her in order for her to make him jealous. But… the way he was looking at her. The way he had looked at her. His eyes lingering too long on her lips. What he’d done in the car ride here. 

She heard Adam in her ear again. “I think it’s working. She just stormed off into the kitchen.” Then he pulled away and she realized she hadn’t even seen Laura. Just Harry. Harry and his stupid, obnoxious green eyes.

“You owe me more than just dinner.” Y/N teased but Adam grew serious.

“I know. And since you refuse to accept my money, I’ll have to figure out another way to repay you.” He smiled and then twirled her around so that she no longer had any line of sight toward Harry. He pulled her close again, one hand going to her waist while the other stayed locked to one of hers. “Suppose I could start with making your coworker just as jealous… although I think he already is.”

Confusion flooded her features as she peered up at him. 

“Oh, come on! He was ready to rip my head off when he realized I’d grabbed your hand. And when I put my arm around you? I thought I might be better off just giving you my jacket and freezing to death instead.”

“I don’t…” she shook her head in disbelief. It was one thing for her to be pretending to make Harry jealous in some delusional hope that it’d work. But this… this was a whole other thing.

“I’m actually quite interested to see what he does if I kissed you.”

She was shocked at first and then, possibly due to the alcohol, just as interested. “Are you asking my permission?”

“Are you saying yes?”

Y/N hesitated. “Is she back?”

Adam’s eyes scanned the room and Y/N realized he hadn’t asked to kiss her for Laura’s sake at all.

“She is.” He finally announced. 

Without any more second guessing, Y/N’s hand slipped to the back of his neck and pulled him in. As soon as their lips collided and she tasted the alcohol on him, she knew that she’d never agreed to this without it. Or maybe she would. Adam spun them back around again, deepening the kiss as her eyes opened and fell into the direction she’d last seen Harry.

He was still there.

Still watching.

His hands in fists. His jaw tightened into a crisp line. His nostrils flared. His eyes… sad.

She pulled away. Adam steadied her, grabbing her shoulders when she swayed. But, as she caught her breath, the dizziness went away. 

“I’m going to find the bathroom.” She told him and after he nodded, she left, forming a rift for herself through the bodies that danced all around them until she was in the clear. Then she was avoiding Harry as she walked past him, not so sure his gaze was still set on her. Maybe she’d gone too far. She didn’t often just kiss people for no good reason and that’s exactly what she’d just done with Adam. She barely even knew him.

She didn’t exactly need the bathroom, just an open, empty and quiet place. And so, she fell back against a wall in the foyer and ran a hand through her hair.

“That was quite the show.”

She startled at the sound of his familiar voice and looked up just as he stopped a few feet away from her. “What are you talking about?”

He lifted a brow. “You expect me to believe that that you, anti everything to do with this holiday and with relationships and romance, are actually dating that guy?”

“Is it that hard to believe?” She crossed her arms, willing to go as far as she needed to before she let Harry see the truth. That she was that pathetic. 

“Yes.” He didn’t even hesitate to respond and she flinched.

“Well, I’m sorry that you have a hard time believing that someone may actually like me.” She had no reason to nearly be shouting at him and no reason to be saying what she was because Adam didn’t like her.

“That’s not what I said. It’s hard for me to believe you just dropped all your ideas about relationships for some guy with obnoxious blue eyes.”

“I didn’t.”

“So then what is this?”

Y/N hesitated. Hating that the truth was about to boil over out of her mouth for him to see all the embarrassing bits of it, but she had no other way of convincing him. And it didn’t really help that Adam was so far out of her league that it wasn’t even convincing to begin with. Nor did she want to convince Harry of anything either. It was clear now that he hadn’t been jealous, he was just trying to figure out when she stopped hating relationships so much.

And the truth of that was she never really hated them. It was just easier telling herself she didn’t want it than admitting no one ever actually wanted her.

She trembled, not even sure why, but he was making her incredibly nervous, so much that she wished she could rewind and stay squished next to him in the back of the car forever. Being that close to him... his stupid fingers on her thigh, whispering things in her ear that made her head spin. She’d much prefer that than standing in front of him now, seeing every ounce of judgment he was about to throw her way.

“What do you want me to say, Harry?” She shrugged and dropped her eyes to the white marble floors between them, focusing on calming her anxiety while she was no longer looking at him. “He needed a date and I felt bad for him.”

“What does that mean?”

Letting her head fall back against the wall, she stared up at the ceiling this time as her eyes burned with embarrassment. “He paid me to be his date so his ex-girlfriend didn’t find out he wasn’t actually seeing anyone. That’s what it means.”

Harry didn’t say anything.

“So, yeah.” She folded her arms, looking down at the floor again, still unable to meet Harry’s eyes and see the look that would be on his face. A smirk of amusement at her expense. Even probably his dimples, taunting her and turning her into the joke she already was. “You were right. I can’t find anyone to tolerate me, which is why I’m on this stupid date that isn’t even real.”

“Him kissing you seemed quite real to me.”

There was more exasperation than humor to her laugh. “It wasn’t.”

Harry seemed to finally understand. “He’s trying to make Laura jealous.”

Y/N just nodded. “I promise I didn’t know you were going to be there, that he was trying to get her back from you.”

“You still kissed him though.”

She couldn’t argue that, nor could she tell him the real reason she’d agreed to the kiss. That it wasn’t exactly Laura she was trying to make jealous. She’d never live that one down, if she ever managed to live any other aspect of this night down.

When she didn’t say anything, he stepped closer. “Why did you kiss him?”

“I’m sorry, Harry I just... I don’t know.”

He shook his head and took another step, making her eyes widen when he was close enough that she had to crane her head back to meet his gaze. “Seemed like you were trying to make me jealous.”

She swallowed, not exactly in the position to laugh it off and argue with him when he was this close and all she could feel were the traces of his fingertips on her thigh. Her voice was quiet when it finally came out. “Making you jealous would mean I assumed you liked me in the first place... which I’m definitely not stupid enough to assume.”

A crease formed between his brow and his stupidly perfect jaw hardened as if he was biting his tongue from saying something. And fuck him for choosing then to finally stop opening his mouth.

Just then, a pair of drunk guys, one on the other’s back, came racing through the foyer, screaming at the top of their lungs while a few others followed quickly after them. It was enough to force Harry away from Y/N again, enough for the both of them to step out of the little bubble they’d been in together the past ten minutes.

Once they were alone again, their eyes gravitated toward each other and just when she thought Harry might say something after all, he flipped around on his heel and left. And she watched as he turned the corner and mixed back into the party.

After a few moments to gather herself, she followed him, not exactly sure what she was going to do now that Harry wouldn’t talk to her and it felt weird being with Adam while Harry knew everything. But, whatever plans to keep herself occupied no longer matted when she spotted Laura.

Making out with Adam in the middle of the room. 

Without even thinking, she turned to locate Harry and he might as well have been a source of gravity because her eyes fell right to him within a second. And he was watching them too. He knew. 

He met Y/N’s eyes and she wasn’t quite sure if he was upset or not. She couldn’t really read anything on his face, and stopped attempting to when he moved towards her and she had other things on her mind, like where he was going and if he was going to bother taking her with him.

Shortly after he stormed past Y/N she made sure he wasn’t going to leave her behind and chased after him. She didn’t know Adam very well and definitely not Laura to want to stay with them. And everyone else in the room were complete strangers to her. Adam had promised he’d take her home, but he probably hadn’t expected to be making out with his ex by the end of the night, either.

Harry didn’t say anything, not even when they’d reached the foyer and Y/N asked where he was going. He just located his jacket and slipped it on before making his way out the front door.

And right when she thought he really was going to leave her behind, since she was the reason he’d just lost Laura to her ex, he held the door open and glanced over his shoulder at her while she still stood on the other side of the threshold.

“Are you staying?”

Without a word, she sprung into motion and trailed right behind him into the hallway like a lost puppy, letting the door shut behind her that cut them off from the music as it faded into the background behind them.

It was a silent trip down the elevator, mostly because she had no idea what to say that would sound sincere and he didn’t say anything at all. At least not until she followed him through the lobby until he stopped on the curb just outside the main doors.

She took up the spot next to him, eyes glued to the side of his face as he took in a deep breath of fresh air, or at least as fresh as traffic allowed it to be.

Then he spoke, and it seemed like the first time she’d heard his voice all night. “I’m the one who gave you the chocolates and the frog.”

She narrowed her eyes, both not exactly sure why he’d just said that or if he was even being serious. “What?”

He looked down at her. “It wasn’t Andrew, it was me.”

“Why?” She breathed and while she was positive she’d be freezing cold soon, the fresh air after being surrounded by so many people felt good. It felt freeing and she wondered if he felt that way too.

His eyes scanned hers before he looked away. “Well partly to apologize for what I said.”

“What’s the other part?”

Sighing, he turned his entire body to face her now. “Something else entirely…” He trailed off, only confusing her more as he stuffed his hands into his pockets and stared at his feet. “I didn’t tell you because I know you don’t like all this stuff, but seeing you with him tonight... I wish I had.” 

“It’s not that big of a deal. It’s just a frog.”

He shook his head, grinning. “It’s not just a frog, Y/N... because the thing is,” he paused to catch his breath, “I’ve been in love with you for... a really long time… since last spring. But with you being the way that you are, I never thought you’d feel the same way.”

She opened her mouth and then closed it.

“And then you come in with that guy and...” He pulled his fingers through his hair. “I don’t think I’ve ever been more jealous in my life... because all this time I thought you weren’t interested in relationships, but you just weren’t interested in me.”

Inhaling, she summoned every ounce of courage she could fathom. “You were right about why I kissed Adam.” He lifted a brow, waiting for her elaboration which never came. “You were right about other things, too. I wish I had someone to come home to almost every single night I got to bed alone. No one—“ She cut herself off, trembling again as tears stung her eyes. “I pretend not to be interested so I can ignore the fact that no one’s ever wanted me.”

“That’s not true.” He had that same look on his face as before, when she’d told him she wasn’t stupid enough to think he liked her.

She just nodded. “And I’m sorry but... why would you want me when you could have someone like Laura?”

“Y/N...” He huffed and stepped closer to her, the heat from his body making her shiver. “This is not the first time I started seeing someone to get over you... in fact, all my relationships since I met you have been shit.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Well you’re very anti-relationships so I think I was justified in wanting to avoid you rejecting me… especially since we work together and it would have been really awkward.”

“I don’t, uh... I...” She stammered, not really sure what to say to him even though her heart was screaming at her in full volume. 

He held his breath and then, in almost a whisper, “Is this the inevitable rejection?”

“No.” She didn’t even hesitate that time and at this point, her mind no longer controlled the words coming out of her mouth as she let another organ finally speak for itself. “No, I liked you the second I saw you, Harry... and at no point tonight was I ever trying to make Laura jealous.”

The corners of his mouth began to curl into a smile. “That was very cruel of you to do to me.”

“I didn’t think you liked me at all twenty minutes ago, Harry.”

“Twenty minutes ago,” he fully invaded all of her space now, leaving the smallest gap between their bodies as he could get away with, lifting his hand to her jaw and rubbing his thumb over her cheek. “I was still on this date with the wrong person.” 

“I think the date is over now.”

“No,” his eyes fell to her lips just like they had before. “It’s not.” 

“You’re looking at me like that again.” She mumbled, out of breath.

He lifted a brow and didn’t once remove his eyes from her lips. “Like what?”

“Like…” she trailed off, not having the courage to say it in case she wasn’t right. 

“Like I’ve wanted to kiss you for a very long time and I’m tired of pretending?” 

“Something like that, yeah.”

He grinned, both of his dimples making an appearance just before he leaned in and brushed his lips against hers. And once her brain realized what was happening, she sunk right into him, letting his arm wrap around her waist as his other hand tangled its way into her hair to bring her closer. She threw her arms over his shoulders and he hunched lower to meet her. She staggered back a step when he did, nearly losing her balance but he caught her instantly and then drew his lips back as he laughed.

“This is not how I expected tonight to end.” She couldn’t help but think the way he struggled to catch his breath was possibly the hottest he’d ever been. Not to mention the tiny bit of her lipstick smeared on his face. She could look at him just the way he was right there and then for days and be perfectly satisfied.

“It doesn’t have to end yet.” She fully blamed her sudden burst of confidence on the cold, but refreshing February night. And maybe she also just wanted to get out of it before it caught up to her and she would, yet again, regret not having a jacket.

“Oh?” She wanted to smack the mischievous smirk off his face and leave him there on the curb. “And here I thought you were a prude.”

“You thought a lot of things about me that weren’t true, Harry.”

He thought about that for a moment and after realizing she was right, he then wondered just how wrong he was when he’d called her celibate. “I suppose… I’d quite like to find out just how wrong I was.” He slipped a loose strand of her hair back behind her ear, which is where his lips ended up as he whispered softly, “And I’d also quite like to show you just how wrong you were about me not liking you.”

They stumbled into her bedroom in the dark, Pretzel racing out between their twisted feet in a hurry, screeching at them in the process. Harry giggled against her lips, “Your cat sounds friendly.” 

“Well, since I was supposed to be spending tonight with her, and chocolate, and anti-romantic movies…” She pulled away from him, watching as his smile spread further. Maybe she could actually believe he’d been in love all this time. 

“Right… I’d be upset too.” 

She shook her head and kissed him again, then pulled back a second later. “You know that’s not actually what I do on Valentine’s Day.”

He lifted a brow and waited for her to explain but she didn’t.

“And what is it that you do, then?” He finally asked, curiosity getting the best of him, although he had some inkling as to what she was talking about.

Her smile was devoid of innocence as her hands fell to his belt. Harry’s shirt had already been lost to the kitchen floor. Her dress hardly covering what it was supposed to once Harry had gotten his hands on it. 

“Maybe you’ll get to find out.” 

When she brought her lips back to his, after undoing the buckle just under his navel, he spun them around and led her backwards to the bed. He wasn’t sure how far it was, but hoped he was headed in the right direction. And because of that, when her knees did finally bend over the mattress, he practically came flying down on top of her. 

She squirmed out from under him, crawling back towards the pillows as she watched him at the end of the bed while he stood and removed his belt completely, trying not to drool at the sight of him. At the sight of Harry, her fucking annoying ass, perfect, beautiful, coworker standing shirtless at the end of her bed where he was also about to be…

He pushed his trousers down off his hips and they fell to the floor with ease, almost with the same amount of ease that her eyes fell to the tight boxer-briefs he wore underneath. She swallowed as he adjusted the waistband back into place, quite certain that, even in the low light, her eyes were not deceiving her.

The bed shifted at her feet as he joined her, and then it took all her willpower to not fling herself at him as he crawled up the length of her. As he settled himself between her thighs and she felt every last, very hard, inch of him pressed against her. She couldn’t be blamed for the whining moan that she let out in his ear as his lips became familiar with the shape and taste of her neck. She also couldn’t be blamed when her hips instinctively collided with his.

He just giggled again and shook his head, the loose strands of his curls tickling her forehead. “Easy now.” He warned in a hushed mumble, his lips vibrating right against the vein in her neck that pulsed so much faster the more his free hand began to wander up underneath her dress.

He left her speechless for multiple reasons, but the main one was when she felt his fingers tracing down her thigh and then, moments later, after he shifted his weight and used his knees to keep her legs open, she sucked in a breath of air as she felt him pressed against her clit, forcing her nails to dig into his back but he didn’t seem to mind.

Coming back down to kiss her, he began moving his hand in expert little circles, grinning against her mouth every time her body begged him for more. It wasn’t long that he complied, either, when he sat back on his knees between her legs and tugged her underwear off for good, throwing it to the depths of her bedroom floor. He wouldn’t have known where they landed even if he tried because his gaze belong to her only as he lowered himself to his elbows before her, kissing his way up her thighs until he reached her center.

When she squirmed away from him, he wrapped his arms around her thighs and pressed his hands into her hips after gently moving her dress out of the way. 

“You know when we used to stay late at the office working?” He asked suddenly and the heat of his voice against her made her squirm again, but he held on tight. “And you would get sick of sitting in an office chair and made me promise not to tell Jim when you sat on his desk instead?” She had no clue where he was going with it, but still, she nodded. “Every single time I turned to look at you, I thought about doing this.” Before she could get words out or even a coherent thought, she felt his tongue on her. And this time when she jerked against him, she nearly slipped out of his hold until he grabbed her again and pulled her back down, digging himself further into her as she struggled to breathe properly.

She dug her fingers into his hair when he brought her close to the edge and showed no mercy. And somehow, she’d managed to get the sole of her foot up onto his shoulder in order to kick him away, but it didn’t matter much because he never budged. Not that she wanted him to, but he just felt so good… 

“Harry!” She shouted, pulling at his hair and making matters worse for herself when he moaned against her sensitive bundle of nerves. He let her come, never once lifting his mouth from her even as her hips jerked off the mattress and she very nearly pulled his hair out. When she stopped screaming, her voice caught in her throat because she was lost to her own orgasm, is when he lifted his mouth, replaced it with his fingers and watched her as she came down. As her eyes fluttered shut and her chest heaved, her lungs struggling to get oxygen back into her system. Her hold on him loosened as she came undone around him, melting into his hands it seemed like.

And when he began rubbing his index and middle finger into her, once she was far and beyond overstimulated, and he knew that, she reached down with a whine and grabbed his wrist with what little strength she had in her and pulled him away. His hand fell to the other side of her hip, which he used to his advantage to pull himself up over her again, his other hand taking her dress with it until he was able to tug it over her head and toss it. Then he came back down to kiss her, letting her taste herself on her lips. He rubbed his thumb across her cheek and when he pulled away, found her looking at him finally. Although it was with heavy lids as she still struggled to regain her bearings.

Before they could get much further, a loud crashing sound from the other room made both of them nearly jump out of their skin. She shot up instantly, grabbing hold of Harry’s bicep before moving him out of the way and sliding off the edge of the bed. 

“It’s just the cat.” Harry would have probably said the same thing even if it was not just the cat, he’d say anything just to get her to stay with him.

“I know but it sounded like…” her voice trailed off as her feet hit the floor and the moment she went to stand on her own two legs, her knees buckled. He reached to grab her waist but she righted herself before he could. She didn’t see the way he hid his cheeky smirk at the fact that he’d been so good, she was still dizzy.

“You good?” He asked as she stumbled her way into a shirt. With only a groan in response, and what he was sure was her middle finger, she left him alone in her bed to investigate the noise. Sighing, he laid on his back and got comfortable amongst her pillows. And after about three minutes, decided to locate the remote to her TV to entertain himself. 

He flipped onto his side and felt around her bedside table, but his fingers never landed on anything remote-like. So, frustrated, he reached up and switched the lamp on. Again, he found nothing. Looking further, he realized the table had a drawer and so he pulled it open in hopes of finding the damned remote before she got back. 

But what he found instead was so much better than turning on late night news.

“Fucking cat knocked over my vase.” Y/N was back within ten minutes. Harry had left the light on, but made sure it wasn’t obvious he’d gone snooping into her drawer, at least not yet anyway. She crawled back into bed beside him and it was then he noticed the bandage on her thumb.

“Are you alright?” He forgot all about what he planned to tease her with when he gently grabbed her hand to inspect the damage.

“Yeah. I was in a bit of hurry trying to clean up the glass…” 

Harry rolled his eyes and dropped her hand. “I would have come help you.”

She just smiled up at him as he fit his arm around her shoulders, his bicep under her neck. “That’s alright.”

He shrugged. “It was for the best anyways that I didn’t.” When he smirked, she narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him.

“And why’s that?”

She followed his other hand as he reached for something and then, moments later, it reappeared with a very familiar pink object clutched in his grasp. “Because then I wouldn’t have found this.”

Her first reaction was to pry it from his snooping fingers, but when she reached across him to grab it, he way too easily held her back and, at the same time, held it far out of her reach. 

“So this is what you do on Valentine’s Day, then?” He flicked his wrist back and forth, waving her vibrator in the air as he taunted her.

“If you don’t give that back to me,” she reached for it again to no prevail, “you won’t be doing anything, least of all, me.”

He clicked his tongue. “Why would I give it back when I plan on using it?”

She froze and he chuckled at her reaction.

“Would be rude of me to break your traditions, wouldn’t it?” 

She swallowed, her eyes slowly meeting his again. The appearance of his right dimple told her he wasn’t playing any games. She had no idea how many times he planned to make her come tonight or whether or not she’d even be able to walk tomorrow at work. But, given the stupid look on his face, she almost began making plans to call out sick instead.

“Do you actually know how to use that thing?” She finally asked, glancing at the wand still held very firmly in his hand.

He looked at her like she was crazy moments before he pivoted and pinned her onto her back, settling himself into the position they’d been in before the interruption of the cat. 

Just, this time… he was clicking on her vibrator and watching her face as she began to regret her words. 

“‘Course I know how to use it. The real question is,” he brought his lips to her ear, the soft vibrations and the sound of his voice mixing together like sin itself. Even more so when he nipped at her earlobe. “Do you know how to handle it?”

[tiredrobin]

Ok you said only if we felt super nice

BUT I'm actually very curious of Nib, but i barely know anything about them(?)

So, how about Nib helping Ingo and Emmet reunite? Or some dynamic with the 3 of them so we can get to know Nib better.

Also, Nib's fav pokemon?

Don't forget to get a snack and rest.

Thanks!

LONG POST WARNING MOSTLY TEXT IM SO SORRY HFDSHFSDHFS nonnie u set me off smh. fool. goofball. VERY sorry to everyone who spots this in tags: i am tagging it for my own organization purposes. weeps

nib uses it/its pronouns! originally it was it/they, but the preference for "it" prns is so strong that i just eliminated the "they" option for the most part. :]

as for fave pokemon: it can't really Pick a Favorite, though its favorite TYPE of pokemon is bug types, followed closely by ghost! it had a ninjask and a shedinja before the events of hisui, and it also had an orbeetle, and if nib HAD to pick a favorite pokemon it'd probably choose orbeetle!!! (this applies specifically to pre-hisui nib, of course, because it doesn't remember any of its life or its pokemon during the events of hisui.)

its own orbeetle isn't actually a battle pokemon at all, even though they do sometimes train together in fights for fun. orbeetle's singular role was as a service pokemon, fully trained and licensed. it used its psychic powers to translate nib's sign language for people who don't understand sign language.

its favorite pokemon in hisui miiiight be sneasel or weavile (WEAVILE COUNTS), though that's a hard turn from its usual preferences and nib is very uncertain. it adores kriketune and parasect, and it LOVES its typhlosion, and its espeon wisteria is a big fave as well.

i went and immediately tried to go overboard with nib content, because im. sighs. i dont limit myself ever. so instead of real actual doodles ur getting two janky-ass thumbnailed comic pages at an extremely low resolution because i thumbnail at super low resolutions lmao. i'll explain what's going on (and i do plan on finishing them soon, brain be willing) and im not sticking it below a cut because this is MY blog and i do what i WANT. i am sorry to disappoint wrt doodles tho fhfdhHFDHFSD

so. page one is ingo and emmet sitting on a couch in their shared apartment, probably talking about trains, when they get a knock on their door. and that's probably when they realize, like, ah, shit, it's late. emmet answers it and is met with a nervous-looking nib! i didn't draw it, but orbeetle is probably there. emmet greets nib, nib apologizes for disturbing them and asks if he knows sign language, and emmet happily signs and speaks an affirmative, then asks if nib needs him to sign.

in the second page, nib explains (via sign) that it can hear fine, then proceeds to ask them to please be a little quieter because its parents are getting annoyed, then apologizes. emmet reassures it that it's okay and that they'll keep it down, nib thanks him, and then nib leaves. the final three pages are emmet feeling SOOO awkward and embarrassed as he closes the door, and then he looks at ingo like "bro we are so loud" and ingo is just like "ah. oops."

ANYWAY SO. UM. NIB.... LIVED IN UNOVA BEFORE IT GOT DRAGGED TO HISUI. it is actually next door neighbors with ingo and emmet, and they never really interacted beyond polite nods and smiles and ingo complimenting nib's ninjask once, to which nib got embarrassed and it bolted lmao. but after the events of that thumbnail comic, ingo spots nib the next day and approaches to apologize for the noise again, and nib is like "its ok i actually like overhearing you talk about trains!!!" and then asks them to confirm some fact it overheard them discussing, and that causes ingo to infodump a bit right then and there.

they become friends for realsies after that. :] nib is, like, 13 at this point in time, and it gets yoinked to hisui when it's 14, but that whole year before then is spent hanging out and having tea with ingo and emmet sometimes and Infodumping About Trains. while ingo and emmet's special interests wrt trains is geared a little bit more towards the history of unova's trains and nimbasa's subway system, nib's special interest is focused more on train engines and types.

ingo and nib see one another for the first time in hisui and, although neither of them have their memories, they absolutely find some strange sense of familiarity in one another. nib thinks it might be because ingo is the only person in all of hisui who knows the sign language nib knows, and ingo doesn't know What to think

there's a lot im leaving out but i kind of. broke the rules and rambled more than i drew. im sorry hfdhhfds thank u for this ask :']

[altariaas]

your face all made up (living on a screen) 

Adrien knows, to some degree, that it’s the important things that are the most important to say out loud, but it would help to know that someone’s actually listening. It would also help if things would stop breaking every time he acknowledged his emotions, too. 

i’ve taken a total of three steps into this fandom but sure, let’s skip to season 4 and fall face-first into the Angst™, as it goes. I just think Adrien should get a little raw powers of destruction sneaking out of control in his daily life. as a treat. Post-Rocketear so lots of spoilers etc.

Adrien walks home from the fight against Nino’s akuma with a raging headache, a developing case of massive anxiety, and a purpling bruise the size of a basketball on his shin.

The last one isn’t actually from the akuma. Those injuries got neatly miraculoused away, along with Nino’s heartbroken betrayal. No, the bruise is from Adrien’s incredibly stupid attempt to funnel his tornado of emotions into something concrete by kicking the front gate, only to completely miss and slam his shin into the solid steel rungs instead, sending him stumbling back in a pained fit of trying to think up creative curse words that won’t result in his father murdering him if he overhears.

Metaphorically, of course. Father’s not a murderer, except when it comes to the slow death of Adrien’s social life.

Though he really…can’t entirely blame that on Father, either.

And there comes the developing case of anxiety. Adrien swallows, a feeble attempt to banish the souring feeling in his stomach and the aching tightness in his chest. He wraps his arms around himself, staring up at the mansion and fighting the increasing urge to run. The inside of his cheek stings as he chews at it, already abused from how hard he’d bitten there earlier when Nino had started making…observations. Accusations. Wildly misdirected statements that definitely aren’t any insight to how Nino truly feels about what might be the truest version of Adrien’s slowly splintering self, if he’s going to be dramatic about it.

Overly passionate, Father’s voice echoes hollowly somewhere in the back of his head. Prone to fits of drama, just like his mother.

Spinning abruptly on his heel, Adrien beats a steady path away from the mansion gates and toward…somewhere. Somewhere that won’t make that developing case of anxiety worse, and where no one can witness his fits of drama.

The urge to send the front camera a rude gesture in farewell is violently stifled as Adrien keeps his arms wrapped tightly around himself, like the action will keep everything in neat and perfect and safe from view. He feels more than hears Plagg rustle curiously in his front pocket, but Adrien ignores the action, keeping his eyes fixed ahead.

Then the sharp reminder of how it felt when Ladybug ignored him in favor of Rena Rouge comes back and bites him solidly in the guilty part of his feelings, so Adrien pats his front pocket reassuringly.

“Just taking the long way home,” he murmurs.

Plagg’s eyes are calculating, almost greener than usual as they stare at him, and Adrien feels uncomfortably perceived. Not in the cold, bug-under-a-microscope way he feels sometimes when Father looks at him, but a hot kind of uncomfortable, the way he feels when someone looks right past the Adrien Agreste mask and sees—

What? What do they see? An awkward boy stumbling back against a wall because he never learned what his real self was supposed to look like? Hollow flirting and annoying with a capital a?

Fits of drama, Adrien reminds himself. He shouldn’t take it so close to heart. Not when Nino looked so devastated, so heartbroken. Not when Ladybug’s been giving him uncomfortably clear signs that Nino might’ve been right.

“If you say so, kid,” Plagg finally replies. “But I better get that camembert sooner than later.”

A half-smile tugs at Adrien’s mouth. “Sure, Plagg.”

At least Plagg still wants him around, masks and all. It’s a small comfort, but Adrien clings to it, his arms tightening around himself. Sure, things didn’t go…wonderfully, today, but it’s not all so bad. He got slammed into a van a couple of times, and maybe a couple of busted ribs, but that’s nothing, comparatively. And sure, Father’s finding more flaws in him to coldly evaluate than usual, and Nathalie’s growing paler and sicker by the day, and Ladybug’s either freezing him out bit by bit or starting to forget about him entirely and he isn’t sure which is worse, and his schedule is slipping further and further from manageable by the day and Nino dislikes a side of him so much it sent him straight into an akuma and—

“—kid, stop!”

Adrien’s thoughts cut off abruptly as his foot catches, his sense of balance going horizontal as he stumbles, and proceeds to nearly slam the rest of him face-first into the concrete. Plagg’s sharp warning echoes in his ears as he rights himself with a panicked yelp, hopping once while frantically hoping no one was around to see — whatever that was.

“Kid,” Plagg starts, but he doesn’t finish. He’s left the front pocket, his eyes bright green as he stares at him.

Adrien blinks, shaking the slight sense of vertigo off. “Sorry, sorry, I—”

Huh. What did he do? Rubbing the back of his head, Adrien glances at the street he stumbled over. He frowns.

The culprit is a jagged, snaking tear in the concrete, half a meter deep and the length of Adrien’s arm. He stares at the spiderwebbing cracks that branch out of it, fine grains of crushed concrete already scattering in the slight wind.

Weird, he thinks. He doesn’t remember fighting Nino this far down the street. Lucky Charm should’ve fixed that, even if he did.

“Adrien,” Plagg says, and there’s an uncharacteristically cautious edge in his voice. “What was that?”

Adrien cups a hand around Plagg, running a finger over his head in apology as he draws him out of view again. “Lost in thought, I guess,” he says, ducking his head. “Sorry.”

Plagg doesn’t reply, still staring at him with a look Adrien can’t quite identify. He feels oddly disoriented, like he actually did fall and hit his head, and now it’s spinning in retaliation. Across the street in front of him, the stoplight flickers — red, then orange, then red again. It flickers out entirely, before snapping back to a bright, acidic green. Adrien rubs his eyes.

“Let’s…let’s go home,” Plagg finally says, tucking himself back in Adrien’s shirt pocket. He doesn’t entirely meet Adrien’s eyes as he does, but he curls up against his chest, solid and warm, and it’s almost enough to banish the ache that lies beneath.

“Okay,” he says, softly. “Home, then.”

————

There’s a memory Adrien has, from when he was younger. It’s one he holds tightly to his chest, tattered and frayed as it is.

He was much smaller than he is now — barely six years-old, maybe, and small enough to hide behind the large statues his mother would put funny hats on to make his father laugh. She’d done just that earlier, standing tiptoed on the staircase as she’d slipped a terrible orange bowler hat on the pretty lady Nathalie said was from Greece. Adrien had giggled behind his fingers and his father had laughed, an unfamiliar sound that’s faded in memory now, but a bright and real one nonetheless.

It had been a good day, until mother had come down with a cold during dinner and Adrien had jolted out of sleep from a nightmare about giant, ugly orange hats that snatched up his mother with their ribbon-like fingers and took her away from him forever.

He’d sprinted through the house like the horrible hat monsters from his dream were on his heels, slipping in his socks up to the cracked door of his father’s study.

He hadn’t needed to knock, then, or even schedule a meeting. He’d slid through the doorway and barreled into his father, only to be caught by strong arms and swept into his father’s lap, warm and safe from any monsters that dared to follow him here.

“I’m worried about your mother, too,” his father had said. “But it’s just a cold, you see? Nothing to go slipping and falling down the stairs about.”

He’d received nothing but a sniffle in response.

“Alright.” Fingers had pinched around his nose as his father sighed. “How about we read a story then, until you’re not so frightened? Just you and me.”

The book they’d started that night was about a prince and a planet and a rose, and Adrien still remembers the sound his father’s voice made as it resonated where Adrien’s cheek pressed against his chest, his arms holding tight and warm around him, like nothing bad could slip in from outside and hurt him.

It’s a favorite memory of his, one Adrien finds springing back to mind whenever Father gives him a smile, half-formed and distanced as they are.

Lately, though, it’s a memory that stings to think about. It makes it harder to look Father in the eye, for some reason.

————

“And like, I really can’t say this enough, but I’m so sorry.”

“I told you, Nino, it’s fi—”

“No seriously, dude, I’m really sorry, I—”

“Nino.”

His friend finally jerks out from his puddle of miserable apologies, and Adrien gives him a weary smile. “It’s fine. You didn’t hurt me.”

“I dragged you into the boiler room then got akumatized,” Nino says, distressed. “That’s worse than like, the plot of eight different horror movies.”

“Your head was shaped like a giant blue tear, it wasn’t that scary,” Adrien assures him.

“I am ninety percent sure I remember shoving you to the floor,” Nino moans, not reassured in the least.

Part of Adrien’s mind, the part that sounds a little too much like a spurned cat whom hell hath no fury, or however the saying goes, wants to pipe up with the fact that getting shoved to the floor was five-star treatment compared to what Nino (akuma, Nino’s akuma, that’s important) had proceeded to do to him afterwards.

The bus-slamming thing had hurt.

Not as much as hurting Nino would’ve, though.

So instead, Adrien gives Nino the kindest smile he can, lays a gentle hand on his arm, and says, “As if the akuma gave you the biceps to pull that off.”

“Hey,” Nino knocks their shoulders together, his guilt ridden expression easing just a bit as he gives him a half-hearted grin. “I’m ripped, bro.”

It takes Adrien a moment to reply, too busy fighting the overwhelmingly — traitor — urge to follow the warmth of contact with Nino like a starving animal. He doesn’t need to fight for too long — his brain throws everyone thinks you’re a joke at him just in time for Adrien to hunch his shoulders in and give Nino an awkward little grin of his own.

Maybe his brain’s a traitor too, though, because he doesn’t remember Nino even saying that about Chat Noir.

He thinks.

Hopes.

Actually, his brain can go sit in a corner if it’s going to keep throwing stuff like this at him. Shaking anything and everything knowledge-wise that belongs to Chat Noir from his mind, Adrien turns his attention back to the scribbled game of hangman they’ve been playing on the corner of Nino’s history notes. Group projects are supposed to be fun, anyways, especially with Nino.

“Uh, c,” he guesses.

Nino adds a single c to the blank letter spaces. Adrien squints at the paper, his mouth downturning at the suspiciously familiar arrangement he has so far.

_adia_t, ca_ef_ee, d_ea_y

“Nino,” he says, carefully.

Nino smirks. “Mm-hm.”

“If this has anything to do with perfume ads—”

“Uh-huh?”

“Then I hate you.”

Nino cackles, scribbling in the rest of the rest of the accursed phrase as Max loudly hushes him. Adrien rolls his eyes and huffs, but he’s unable to stop the small smile of amusement. It quickly fades as his words to Nino echo with an uncomfortable emphasis in his head.

You’re being stupid, he tells himself. Adrien pushes away the nagging feeling. Nino knows he’s not serious. He knows Adrien doesn’t actually hate him. Just like Adrien knows Nino didn’t mean it, when he said all that stuff about Chat Noir.

His fingers tighten around his pencil. He’s not supposed to be thinking about that. Nino apologized, to Chat Noir himself, and just because Adrien can’t get the sting out, it doesn’t mean that Nino meant anything genuine by it.

Overly dramatic, Adrien reminds himself. Way too emotional.

The ache in his chest makes itself known again with a pang, and Adrien bites the inside of his cheek, glancing at Nino from the corners of his eyes.

Maybe he should tell Nino he cares about him, just to be sure. The words form in his mind, only to catch abruptly in his throat, thick and cloying. He thinks of how thoughtlessly he’s been able to tell Father he loves him. Thinks of how easy it’s always been to tell Ladybug how much she means to him.

He thinks of how neither of them seem to like meeting him in the eyes, lately.

He swallows the words, opting to smile brightly at Nino instead. It’s probably for the best. Nino’s always been better at picking up on people’s feelings, anyways, and he doesn’t need the kind of nagging assurance Adrien does. And it’s not like Adrien’s had much luck telling people he loves them, lately. Actually, if you look at his track record, he probably hasn’t…had any luck at all.

Adrien shakes his head, shoving the coldness creeping into his chest as far to the corner of his mind as he can, and sketches out enough blank spaces on the paper to spell fake mustaches are the new sexy.

If he can still make Nino laugh, it’s fine. He wouldn’t be laughing if he thought Adrien was annoying and obnoxious.

So see? It’s fine.

————

Adrien thinks about elastics, sometimes. The stretchy, rubber kind that Mme Thurston uses to pull back the longer locks of his hair while she’s doing his makeup, tying it up in a neat little explosion on top of his head that makes him look like a blond weed. She makes it look easy, twisting the little bands around and around, until they’re tight enough to hold his hair in place.

(Adrien’s hair is always easy, of course. Chat Noir’s hair, on the other hand, would probably give Mme Thurston nightmares. Mainly because Adrien has a fun little habit of shaking his head side to side until it’s an unrecognizable blond disaster, but that’s not particularly relevant.)

(Ladybug doesn’t even need to use elastics, opting for the soft strands of ribbon that hold her pigtails in perfect place.)

Adrien doesn’t normally use elastic bands either, but he likes the way they feel when he’s nervous, stretching and rubbery, then snapping perfectly back into place, like he’d never twisted them all out of proportion at all. The way he can hook his fingers in both ends and pull and pull and pull, but they never quite snap.

Felix has a fun trick with those, when they do photoshoots together.

(When they used to.)

He’ll press a little elastic against Adrien’s arm and pull the end back, just far enough, then let it snap back into place, stinging little red marks when it slaps against skin.

“Stop it,” Adrien scowls at him, but the expression wavers. Playful isn’t a word he uses along with Felix very often, but photoshoots are always more entertaining with him, at least. Or they were, until his mother disappears, and family photoshoots grind to an utter and complete halt forever—

—just for now, his father says, until something changes, until that something happens, until that metaphorical other foot that’s always hanging over Adrien’s head finally stomps its way back to earth and demolishes him in the process—

Felix replies by stretching another elastic between his fingers, shooting it toward him this time like a little slingshot. Adrien snags it out of the air, slotting it between his own fingers to fire back. It misses by a miserable meter and a half, because at the time this conversation takes place, he and Ladybug haven’t stayed up all night practicing their aim by trying to hit the left ear of Le Stryge on Notre-Dame.

Felix snorts, snatching the elastic from the floor, and makes a show of placing the band back against Adrien’s wrist. He pulls it back with a meaningful look, like an exasperated teacher. “It’s the bounce back that hurts,” he tells him. “Not the stretching part. When it snaps back to place—” He demonstrates by releasing the band, and Adrien flinches at the tiny sting. “—that’s the part that hurts.”

Four years later, having up close and personally experienced what a shattered ribcage stabbing into your lungs feels like, Adrien wants to correct Felix on tiny little elastic bands and what actually hurts, but the point, he guesses, is that he still remembers what it felt like.

He still thinks about those elastics sometimes, and how far they can be pulled until they snap back into place. How the little rubber band can make it so far, get so close to breaking, only to snap right back to where it started.

(Chat Noir doesn’t use elastics, either.)

————

For all that Adrien will stand by stuffing the worst of his emotions into a box and never thinking about them ever as a perfectly reasonable way to go about handling things —and whatever Plagg says doesn’t count, he’s a kwami who compares emotions to cheese — Adrien really does believe in communication as key.

Living it out is just. Another thing entirely.

But Adrien’s lived his life with a cold mansion’s worth of words left unsaid, so on principle, he really does believe that if something’s important, you should say it. Maybe nobody will really listen to you, or take you seriously, but at least you’ll have said it, and maybe at some point they’ll remember you said it, and it’ll mean something to them.

But maybe that’s what stopping him this time — he just can’t decide if it’s the idea of not being listened to that scares him, or the idea of actually being heard that’s worse.

It’s not like he wants to tell Ladybug he’s upset. It’s not like he even wants to be upset.

It doesn’t change the fact that he is, kind of, a little bit, (a lot) — but again, on principle, Adrien just — he doesn’t like being upset. It’s all uncomfortable and hot and it sits on his chest like a rock, weighing heavier and heavier until he learns to get over it.

It’s only worse when he tries to say something about it, because that never works. Maybe it’s a really sucky side effect of being homeschooled for most of his life, but every time Adrien opens his mouth to tell someone he’s upset with them and here’s why, it always backfires spectacularly. There’s a weird moment where something happens and the other person says their part, and suddenly Adrien’s complaints sound so stupid he wants to crawl in a hole and hide. There’s a dizzying one-eighty and Adrien’s suddenly the one in the wrong, and the other person’s upset at him, and now he’s got to apologize before he makes it worse than he already has.

And granted, most of those other people are just Father (or Father’s tinny voice through the phone), but he’s already enough to beat the lesson in.

Metaphorically, of course. Always — always metaphorically. Adrien’s never doubted otherwise.

“Maybe I’m just that bad at arguing,” he mutters, swiping darkly at his phone screen.

“I dunno,” Nino says, his voice consoling. “I mean, you were pretty good at it when you argued me into watching that one anime the other night.”

Adrien rolls his eyes. “I wasn’t upset with you about that.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Nino winks at him. “Unless your voice going all high-pitched about why Sailor Moon is the peak of animation is your default setting.”

“I wasn’t upset with you, though,” Adrien shakes his head, cutting him off. “I’m never upset with you.”

And he isn’t, really. Not even when Nino tells him, in an admittedly roundabout way, that he’s annoying and irritating and has loose and shady moral commitment to love and all its forms (or something like that).

He means, it stings, but only in the way Felix’s little rubber band snaps do. Not enough to justify picking an argument with Nino. Not to justify upsetting him, and possibly losing the one friend who’s stuck by him through the worst and actually shares stuff with him these days.

Adrien bites down on the inside of his cheek. If he’s not careful with the way his train of thought’s been steering itself lately, he’s going to accidentally show Ladybug how upset he is, and that’s—

Well, the fallout of that will hurt a lot worse than a little elastic band snap.

A lot worse than it already does, so. Back in your corner, resentful thoughts.

“Uh-huh.” There’s a quiet edge of suspicion in Nino’s voice, and Adrien stiffens, suddenly feeling horribly seen. The look Nino’s pinned on him doesn’t help at all, searching and curious and—

Concerned? Upset? Angry?

Adrien doesn’t know. He thinks it’s concern, but he’s also been thinking Ladybug’s been amused with him when she’s apparently just been annoyed, so who knows, really—

Shut up, Adrien tells his subconscious furiously. Shut up, shut up, shut up.

“It’s okay, if you are,” Nino says hesitantly, perhaps having picked up on whatever storm of emotions are slipping through Adrien’s schooled expression. “Upset, I mean. At your old man or me. It’s better to talk to people upfront, y’know? Otherwise…”

Nino’s expression twists in guilt, and Adrien’s lungs feel a little like they’re shriveling up and dying. Or maybe that’s just his chest on the whole, collapsing in on itself and taking Adrien’s ability to breath right with it.

He isn’t upset. He’s not. He doesn’t need to talk to anyone upfront about it, because there’s nothing to talk about in the first place. He’s not going to be overly dramatic about this too, he’s not. He’s just— it’s just—

Is it personal? Was it something he did, that made Ladybug trust everyone else but him? Did he slip up at some point and he just — he can’t remember? She’d told him, she’d promised they were fine after New York, but maybe she’d changed her mind without telling him and decided he needed to figure out on his own where he messed up if he was ever going to be worthy of her trust agai—

“I’ll be — I’ve gotta — restroom,” Adrien stammers, shooting up from his seat and all but sprinting for the doors.

“Wait, Adrien—!”

Nino’s panicked call is lost as Adrien flies down the hall, slipping down the stairs to the bathrooms on the first floor where he’s less likely to be found. He doesn’t feel like he’s going to cry, or anything so humiliating, but there’s an awful crushing sensation in his chest that makes him think he might do something he’ll regret. Or say something, any of the raging thoughts that bang off the insides of his skull with hurt. Something he won’t be able to take back.

Adrien wavers, planting both hands on the edge of the sink and staring at the white porcelain. His breathing sounds odd in the echo of the bathroom, wavering and off-beat. His vision swims traitorously, so he glares up at the mirror instead, only to falter as he catches sight of his reflection.

He looks…not great. Pale skin and bloodshot eyes in the way that’s likely to make Nathalie call a doctor on him. Which would be just fantastically ironic, considering she’s the one who needs a doctor, even if she’s never going to admit it and keep lying to him. Just like Ladybug, all careful smiles and words chosen with forced, casual caution, staring at him with eyes that are a million other places except actually seeing him.

Stop, he tells himself furiously, squeezing his eyes shut. Stop. Ladybug is not Father. Ladybug is Ladybug, his best friend and partner and he trusts her, he trusts her to have her reasons for not telling him. He has to trust her. He does trust her, he—

A sharp cracking sound tears Adrien from his thoughts, and he snaps his head up to find seven of his own disjointed faces staring back at him. He blinks, and suddenly the faces are clinking to the floor, broken fragments of the mirror scattering around his shoes.

His first thought, apart from a bizarre sense of not being entirely in his body, is a well-timed curse word.

Instead, what he gets out is, “Seven years bad luck,” muttered, almost absently, beneath his breath.

Typical. He wonders if moonlighting as a black cat-themed superhero that leans heavily into exaggerated acrobatics counts as crossing one. Like he needs more bad luck, right now.

What he actually needs, is…

Is…

He needs an escape.

From everything, it feels like, but for now, Adrien will settle for an escape from the school bathroom with all the mirrors that just broke.

…somehow.

————

For all that he throws fits of drama about it, the thing is, Adrien has escaped.

He’s made it out of the house, to school. He’s learned physics and grammar and math that Nathalie taught him six months ago, and he’s learned how to play hangman and cut class and tell your friend’s fortune with folded paper. He’s made friends, real friends, and he’s learned how to muffle loud giggles on the phone at night and what kinds of snack food Nino likes and doesn’t like. He’s learned how to pick up on a whole slew of emotions other than disappointment and apathy and mildly reserved approval, and he’s learned how to tell when other people are hurting.

(He’s learned how to tell how he’s hurting, but he’s unlearned that one faster.)

He’s learned the words it takes to voice that Father isn’t always right, learned how to curl his fingers tight enough into his palms that they don’t shake so much anymore, and he’s learned how to stretch like a rubber band against people’s anger, bending without breaking.

(He’s also learned about the perks of night vision and bone density and six different ways to trip someone up with the leather belt you’ve got tied around your waist like a tail, but he can’t credit school for those.)

And he thinks — he thinks he’s come so far, he’s learned so much, he’s so much stronger now—

Then his father’s eyes soften just enough to resemble the eyes of the man who held him close and told him how much he loved him, loves him, who stayed up all night reading Adrien’s favorite book to him and whose lap was the safest, warmest place in the world, and Adrien—

Hates himself. Hates himself as he snaps right back into place, right back into the Adrien who crumbles at Father’s slightest snap of tone. Hates himself so much it stings.  

Because it’s so much easier to do that, than it is to hate his father.

————

Adrien doesn’t particularly want to go to the photoshoot after school, especially not now that mirrors are literally breaking at the sight of his face, but — and here’s the fits of drama again — like everything else Father’s deigned to want, he doesn’t have much of a choice.

Technically, though, Adrien fantasizes as he fixes his eyes upward so the makeup artist can do her best to hide the darkening circles beneath them (“—really, dear, do you sleep at all these days—”), he could give himself a choice. He could make it fun, too, striking the perfect pose before transforming into Chat Noir right smack in front of the entire studio crew, and then Father would have something truly inspired to review that evening. A perfect snapshot of Adrien cataclysm-ing his merry way out of the studio and out into the gloriously free outside, that’s what.

Except then Adrien would have way too many choices to make, and even less all at once. The identity thing, being one. How to avoid Ladybug murdering him and dancing atop his grave, for another. Not that he thinks Ladybug is capable of murdering anyone, of course—

(—no, that’s solely reserved for him and his powers alone—)

—but he can imagine she’d be angry, were he to stage a reveal that way.

Were he to stage a reveal at all, Adrien thinks sourly, blinking until the stiff feeling of the makeup beneath his eyes fades. His makeup artist’s had to use the thick kind today, the extra-strength stuff that’s going to take forever to wash off. He stifles the urge to swipe at it, trying to relax into the feeling instead. Makeup is familiar, consistent. Sure, it’s technically another lie, but it’s one Adrien’s at least aware of. Makeup, he can see through. He can put it on and take it off himself, exercising some tiny semblance of control over what’s being hidden from the world.

Everything else, though…

“Carefree, my boy, carefree,” Vincent implores, his eyebrows furrowing as Adrien snaps himself back to the present. “You look as if you’re being drowned in mud, not soaring above the clouds.”

Adrien’s cheeks puff up as he blows his breath out, short and frustrated. At least Vincent is every bit as prone to fits of drama as he is, he reminds himself. It’s better to be stuck with someone passionate than someone as open as a brick wall, even if it is just Vincent antagonizing him with a camera again.

“Sorry,” he offers, giving him a weak grin. “I’ll get it this time, promise.”

Vincent doesn’t look entirely convinced, but he rambles about lighting and angles instead of scolding Adrien, which he can’t help but be grateful for. It allows Adrien a moment to let the smile drop, staring at the ground instead of the brightening lights around him.

He toes sullenly at the smooth linoleum of the floor, the solid black of Father’s logo glaring back at him from the side of his sneaker. Maybe he should just get more sleep. Maybe all the ugly tangled emotions in his chest are just residual buildup from being overtired, that’s all. Ladybug mentioned the stress getting to her a little while back, her own eyes bloodshot and exhausted. Adrien’s brilliant solution had been to take her to the movies, which had gone just as brilliantly as every other time he’s tried something like that, which is not very well at all. He’d been worried about her, though, even before she’d thrown him from a roof on accident. Ladybug carries so much on her shoulders, and strong as they are, Adrien knows what it’s like to be strung so tightly that even the slightest extra weight feels like it’ll snap you. He sees the same weight in his own eyes, now, even blinded by the studio lights.

His stomach twists. Ladybug’s eyes aren’t half as bloodshot lately. There’s an easiness to her that wasn’t there before, a lightening of tension, and yes, Adrien’s happy she’s feeling better, he’s nothing but glad that she isn’t so exhausted and worn, but…

But she’d trusted him before, even when she was strung her tightest. And now that there’s relief in her eyes, now that he’s taking a backseat and Ladybug adds more allies to their roster by the day, allies that she knows but he doesn't, allies that Alya and Nino probably know too, just like everything else, now that—

Was he the problem? Was it his fault, that Ladybug’s eyes turned shadowed and her movements wavered? He’s tried, he’s tried to be a rock for her, to be something constant and consistent as Adrien himself wants, but the horrible feeling that he’s not enough is now warring with the awful feeling that he’s the problem in the first place, because — why else? Why else would she shut him out like this? Why else would she decide he’s untrustworthy, after all this time, why—

The lights against his vision suddenly flare painfully bright, so bright Adrien’s forced to stagger back.

Vincent jolts away with a cry, waving his hand frantically as the camera sparks and sputters. Echoed cries of surprise ring throughout the studio as the overhead lights flicker wildly, turning the studio into a frightening mockery of a particularly bad nightclub.  

Adrien stumbles again, alarm coursing through his veins like a cold burst of water, and he darts for the intern nearby, who’s fallen over in her scramble to back away from the strobing lights. She’s just taken his hand when the lights go dark, plunging the studio into blackness. Before anyone can react beyond a frightened shriek, the lights snap back on, bright and steady as if nothing’s happened.

Adrien slowly pulls the intern to her feet, staring at the blazing lights as his vision swims, blinking against the sudden onslaught of dark spots in his eyes.

“Is it an akuma?” the intern asks, her eyes wild with fear. “Should we — should we evacuate?”

Adrenaline shoots through Adrien’s veins, his head whipping back and forth as he searches for a spark of purple, for the familiar edge of butterfly’s wings. But there’s nothing out of place, save the sputtering camera Vincent’s fretting over. There’s no sign of garish transformation, no following explosions, no loudly proclaimed demands for miraculous. In fact, if Adrien hadn’t seen it himself, it would appear as if nothing’s ever happened at all.

“It could’ve been the power lines,” someone suggests. “This place is pretty old, you know.”

“With Agreste’s standards?” someone else mutters. “I doubt it.”

“The camera is broken. Unsalvageable,” Vincent announces over the outbreak of murmurs. To his credit, he barely sounds shaken. “It must have been a power failure, or a blown fuse, I suppose. Nothing we can help.”

Vincent’s word is all the rest of the crew needs, and before Adrien can clamber up to inspect the lights himself, he’s being ushered from the studio, another intern furiously muttering about how she refuses to be fired for losing a model to “subpar building inspections” or something along those lines.

Adrien, who is already anticipating Father’s reaction himself, can’t blame her for bailing the moment he’s in the Gorilla’s hands.

————

Adrien is six years and three months old when his father finally finishes reading Le Petite Prince to him, and he comes the closest he ever has to throwing a fit at the ending.

He doesn’t actually throw a fit, of course, because then his father might not read to him ever again. That they finished this book together is already more precious as anything Adrien’s ever owned, and he won’t ruin that with his dramatics.

“Not all stories have the happy endings you want, Adrien,” his father tells him. Adrien feels his arms tighten around his shoulders, where he sits snugly in his father’s lap. “Sometimes you must make the most of what you have.”

Even at a young age, Adrien knows that he has quite a lot. The knowledge only grows as he does, just how much he has from his last name alone. His room alone could rival some people’s homes, Adrien has no right to want for anything.

And yet.

Sometimes, Adrien thinks back to the deep timbre of his father’s voice as he reads about yellow snakes and desert flowers and feels a stinging sense of loss so sharply it takes his breath away.

Other times, though, Adrien thinks about his father choosing to read a story about a boy who could only return home by letting a snake poison him, and wonders what that says about their relationship.

It’s not even Father’s icy tone that hurts anymore, really, Adrien thinks, as he picks at his dinner. Not that he’s likely to hear that tone tonight. Father’s locked himself firmly in his office again, and even Nathalie is nowhere to be seen. It’s quiet enough that Adrien’s gotten away with heating up the cheapest dinner they have in the house, and scouring enough cheese for Plagg that he won’t be complaining for a month.

Well, a day, maybe. Plagg’s a special kind of greedy.

But it’s painstakingly clear that Adrien will be dining alone, tonight. There hasn’t even been a single message fro Nathalie, informing him of all the lessons he’s been falling short in lately. Adrien twists his fork in his hand, setting it down with a weary sigh as dark spots flicker before his eyes again.

At least there won’t be anyone to lecture him, he tells himself, tapping absently on the table. The smooth wood looks immaculate beneath his fingers, the edge of his pinky still a bruised purple from the other evening, when Adrien misjudged the distance from the rooftop to his own window.  

Father won’t be able to lecture him about that, either, so it’s a good thing, really. It’s a good thing, that no one will be saying anything to him about the studio mishap earlier, or the darker than usual circles beneath his eyes, or he way he’s been showing up late more often than not to everything. Not about his slipping grades, or the way he keeps forgetting to hide his glare when photoshoots run longer than they’re supposed to.

It’s a good thing, Adrien tells himself, as his fingers clench around the table’s edge. It’s a good thing that he’s alone tonight. Being alone and unseen is much better than the alternative. It’s a good thing, that he can stew in whatever ugly emotions keep threatening to rise to the surface all by himself, where he won’t risk hurting anyone else with them. He can’t mess anything up if no one’s there to see it, so really, it’s a good thing, it’s—

It hits him, all-encompassing and overwhelming all at once.

Unwanted, thick and horrible and choking, the sensation of being traded out and traded off and stepped over, left behind and left out and laughed at in vicious whispers, closed doors and closed expressions and locking him out, like bars sliding down from the ceiling and cutting him off, trapped in place like an animal in the zoo, entertaining for a heartbeat than easily moved past for something better, unwanted and untrusted and alone, alone, alone again—

Adrien buckles and something howls in his ears, his hands burning as his fingers crunch through wood and his vision whites out.

For a heartbeat, Adrien isn’t Adrien — he’s the swelling of flames as fire catches light, he’s the pull of the undertow as it rips across the shore, he’s the blazing burst of lightning against metal, he’s on the edge of a cliff and stepping off—

And then he’s Adrien again, small and shaking and breathing in large, heaving gasps, trying desperately not to throw up all over the table.

“—drien, kid, Adrien, please!”

Adrien tears his hands from the table as if it’s shocked him. Black flecks drift from his fingers as they tremble, and Plagg splits into three as he flits in front of him, six pairs of green eyes staring at him in blazing concern.

“Plagg?” He barely recognizes his own voice, and his throat feels like sandpaper.

“Breathe,” Plagg orders as his image solidifies back to one, more serious than Adrien can remember him sounding. “You gotta breathe, Adrien.”

He does, in stuttering, shaky gasps, because Adrien will do anything Plagg asks him to. He’ll light himself on fire if he wanted, because Plagg is all he’s got.

Plagg is here, and that means more to Adrien than anything else could.

“Breathing,” he finally croaks out. “I’m — breathing, see? S’all good.”

It is most certainly not all good, because Adrien still feels like he got thrown off a building and into a blender, but Plagg almost looks frightened, looking from Adrien to the table to Adrien again, and—

Adrien freezes. The table. The stupidly, enormous, ridiculously expensive, lonely table his family’s supposed to use. The table he definitely, most certainly felt crunch under his hands.

Adrien follows Plagg’s gaze downwards, and suddenly feels like he’s going to throw up again.

“Oh,” he whispers.

Ice coats the inside of his chest, cold and creeping. The sidewalk. The mirrors, the studio camera, and now this.

“Adrien.” Plagg sounds so very serious.

He could explain most of it away. It’d be — it would be easy.

But this?

Adrien stares at the half-decayed table, ashes still flaking from the sides in a way that’s horribly distinctive of his cataclysm. A spiderwebbed path of smoldering destruction, all tracing back to where his fingers had been white-knuckled at the table’s edge.

Something snaps in the chandelier above him, cracking once and fizzling off into sparks.

It feels like something’s snapped in Adrien’s head. Maybe he’s lost it. Maybe he’s finally gone off the edge, and that — that can be his excuse, when Father asks him what, exactly, he did to the table. He can tell Father they’ve both lost it, they’ve both gone mad, and wouldn’t mom think this was all so funny—

A sound like a sob rips itself from his chest, before Adrien can strangle it into submission. He can’t lose it now. He can’t break down, he has to — he has to come up with a way to explain this, he has to find an escape, or Father’s going to be so angry, and so cold, and…and…

Adrien goes still. Like ice, numb and calming, he realizes he doesn’t have to worry about excuses. He doesn’t have to worry about any of that at all. No one’s coming. Not to check on him. The silence of the house is overpowering, the tiny patter of the vaporized table bits as they land on the floor almost thunderous.

“Adrien,” Plagg repeats, softer this time. “I need you to look at me.”

Slowly, he lifts his head, meeting Plagg’s bright green eyes with his own. Something in Plagg’s expression goes tight, a myriad of emotions flickering in his eyes before he schools them back into careful calm.

“Oh, kid.” Plagg’s voice is gentle. It still sounds like a lament.

Adrien tears his gaze away, swallowing. His fingers, still shaking, curl into unsteady fists. They feel odd, almost scalded. Adrien ignores it.

He can hide the table, he tells himself. He can fix the chandelier. No one will notice. He can hide this.

He’s Adrien Agreste.

He can deal with a couple of cracks in his facade.

[h2bakugou]

Hello! Could I please get a soft shiggy x fem!reader? Basically the reader is like god dammit why aren’t u taking care of urself? And basically gives him a lil homemade spa day! I think it’d be really cute! It can be fluff or smut, whatever you prefer!

a/n: hii!! of course!! i kept this kinda fluffy, posting a day later but happy birthday shiggy baby

summary: the constant state that shigaraki stays in while running the league is certainly an interesting one, but you can’t bear watching him not take care of himself. so you arrange a day to do just that

key: (y/n) - your name / (f/n) - first name / (l/n) - last name / (e/c) - eye color / (h/c) - hair color / (y/q) - your quirk

warnings: swearing, fluff, mentions of not eating, mentions of anxiety, a few mentions of nudity but nothing sexual

word count: 2.2k (okay pop awf-)

;cut for length;

»»————-　★　————-««

»»————-　★　————-««

The prominent dark circles under Shigaraki’s eyes were a clear indication that he had been up all night again. Even while he sat in the bed beside you, playing a game on some handheld console, you could tell he hadn’t been to sleep at all in the past twenty-four hours.

Trying to ignore the soft sounds coming from his game, you cuddled up to him anyway, slinging an arm under on of his, resting your hand back up on his shoulder, your grasp resembling that of a backpack strap.

“What are you playing?” You mumbled quietly, your eyes just barely peeking over his arm, the screen illuminated a little too brightly for your comfort.

“Some weird RPG I downloaded from a forum. It’s stupid.” Shigaraki quickly turned the game console off and set it on the night stand, turning over to look at you.

“You look tired, did you not sleep good last night?” You ask, reaching a delicate hand up to caress his cheek, thumb carefully grazing over the top his cheek. You pull him in for a delicate kiss, just barely touching his lips.

You were still half-asleep, but you could tell Shigaraki wasn’t taking care of himself again. He had these spells, usually around the time when the League wasn’t doing much, plotting or just moving around, he wouldn’t sleep, he’d barely eat-his excuse would be he forgot, but you knew he was anxious.

Anxious for what was to come. He was a good leader, and he was strong, probably stronger than you were, but that didn’t matter. You were worried about him.

You couldn’t stand seeing those dark circles under his eyes, of hearing his tummy rumble when you lay next to him. It seemed the scratching on his neck would worsen as well, raw skin peeking through under the already cracked and dry skin he itched at for what felt like hours.

“Didn’t sleep.” He replied quietly. He knew you were about to scold him. He could read it all over your face as you pouted, pulling him into you.

“You could’ve woke me up, and we could’ve done something to help you fall asleep.” You sit up, ushering him to lay in your lap. As he does so, you take one look at his hair and inwardly cringe.

It’s a knotted mess, and no matter how much you wanted to run your fingers through it, you probably wouldn’t even get halfway before having to brush your fingers out of there with a hair brush. Or worse, cut them out.

“Didn’t wanna bug you.” Shigaraki seemed cold. His responses were dry. You heaved a sigh and pushed him up by his shoulders. Slinking out of the bed, you walked around to his side and tugged him out, pulling him over to the bathroom by his arms.

“How many times have I told you I don’t mind.” You sigh as you set him down on he toilet lid, watching as he just nods, hanging his head as you turn on the water for the bath.

Allowing it to warm up, you turn back to him and tug at his shirt.

“Arms up.” You speak softly, proceeding to take his shirt off as he lifts his arms up.

“When did you get this!?” You’re visibly and audibly worried as you spot a rather large bruise on his side. It looked like it hurt.

“Last fight.” Shigaraki sighed and glanced up at you.

“What are you doing?” His lips were fitted in a thin line, his eyelids were barely open, probably to heavy to even try.

“I’m going to help you relax. Look, your shoulders are so tense you can’t even relax them!” You went to touch his shoulders and just as you had stated, the muscles felt locked and telling by the hissing from Shigaraki, they were painful to move and touch.

“Alright alright! Just, am I taking a bath?” He questioned. You nodded and stepped aside, allowing him to undress the rest of the way before getting into the tub, his lips parting as he sat down, the warm water already making him feel slightly better.

Taking a cup you’d left in the bathroom from dumping out some soda, you rinsed it quickly under the sink, making sure it wasn’t sticky, and then brought it over to the tub where you scooped up some water and poured it over Shigaraki’s hair.

Once it was wet enough to lather some shampoo in, you allowed him to lean back as you worked your fingers through his locks. Unknotting his hair and washing it was a bit difficult, but taking your time, you made sure every strand of his hair was clean.

Your fingers worked their way back up to his scalp where you massaged for quite a few minutes, both to try and remove any built up dirt and dandruff and to give him a bit of a massage.

Shigaraki was almost purring in satisfaction as you finally dragged your hands away, reaching for the cup to rinse his hair. It didn’t take you long to rinse out all the suds before getting started on the conditioner.

“Thank you.” Shigaraki mumbled, holding his knees to his chest, his head dipped back so you could wash his hair easier.

“Of course. I know you haven’t been taking care of yourself again, I know you don’t mean too, but I can’t help but notice.” You sigh, running the pleasant-smelling conditioner through his white locks.

“You have these weird spells. I understand though, how you feel. It’s not easy being the leader, I can’t imagine the stress you feel, but you’ve got to take care of yourself. It’s important. You gotta be strong for the league, and for yourself.” You know Shigaraki, a little more than everyone else in the league does.

You’re dating him for peat’s sake. But Shigaraki became standoffish, grumpy, and even distant during these spells. There was nothing to do. Besides maybe make up a plan for a little something just to do something.

He was anxious about the little things. About how the league looked to the public. About how long they had stayed in one location. About how long it had been since their last big attack.

He needed to get back to league business, but there needed to be time, a good plan, an opening, the forces to attack, all of it needed to be planned with pinpoint accuracy, and those things took time.

“I love you, a whole bunch.” You lean over and kiss his cheek, smiling as his cheeks burn red.

You lather up a loofa with some nice scented soap and begin to wash his back and shoulders, down his arms and a little on his neck.

You’re extra careful around his neck and try not to get any of the scented soap on his raw skin. You know it hurts, and it’ll sting when water washes over it, but you’ll have to take extra good care of that spot later.

When you’re finished washing him, you drain the water and let him stand up, switching the bath to a shower and you begin to rinse him off.

It feels so domestic, these few minutes. The way you laugh and giggle when you tell him to lift his arms and spin and then call yourself some sort of car wash as you spray the warm water over him.

“You’re making a mess.” Shigaraki states at the various puddles of water on the bathroom floor. You sigh and finally help him rinse his conditioned hair out, asking him to hold the shower head for you while you run your fingers through his hair and ring out all the suds.

After the shower, you let him stand and air dry why you go and retrieve a towel. Upon walking in, he’s turned away from you, so you decide to pinch his butt, playfully of course.

Shigaraki just turns and glares at you, taking the towel from you as you giggle.

“I touched the butt.” You laugh as you leave the bathroom, letting him dry off. While he does so, you search around for a pair of boxers to hand him as well as a comfy t-shirt to put on after you give him a nice back massage.

Handing him his underwear, you look away and decide to make the bed quickly while he gets partially dressed.

“Where’s my shirt?” He questions. You turn and for a few seconds, you’re flustered. There’s Shigaraki, hair dripping wet and running down his toned chest, right down to the waist band of his black boxers. The towel you’d given him is lazily tossed over one shoulder, and he looks like some sort of actor out of a terrible romance movie.

Too entranced by his looks, you quickly shake your head, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. You pat the freshly made bed.

“Back massage.” You blurt out kneeling on the bed, waiting for him to lay down.

“Flustered?” Shigaraki stands beside the bed, a finger under your chin as you look up at him. You lean up and kiss his lips, smiling as you pull away.

“Well when you look that good can you blame me?” You tease, waiting as he lays down on the bed like you had motioned for.

“I guess not.” He replies.

Laying his head over his folded arms, his chest is against the bed. You move to sit over his butt as you look at his back. Still a little damp from the shower, you take the towel that had been tossed on the bed and dry it off, running it through his wet locks a bit.

Tossing it down onto the floor, too unbothered about it leaving a wet-mark on the carpet, You squirt some lotion into your hand and delicately begin to rub it into his back, carefully drawing your fingers across his skin, massaging it up over his shoulders.

Your fingers work magic as you relieve his tension, working at his shoulders carefully and strategically, undoing any knots that had formed.

Shigaraki’s eyes are closed, and small hums of satisfaction spill from his mouth as you do so.

You spend minutes massaging his back, quietly and gently working lotion into his skin. And when you’re finished, you ask him to sit up and face you. He puts on a shirt and you ask for his hands.

He’s skeptical but allows you to see one. You carefully apply some lotion to your hand and begin to massage it in, working down each one of his fingers before gently massaging his palm.

He stares at you in admiration as you seem un-phased by his hands, or the fact that he could kill you with them if you messed up. You don’t even look anxious, or worried about them.

And when you switch to his other hand, you continue, even when his fingers twitch. You just smile and kiss the back of his hand when you’re done, complementing the way he looks.

Interlocking your hands with his, Shigaraki’s eyes go wide.

“Careful!” He speaks up, falling into you as you tug him back.

He’s laying on top of you as you lay under him, smiling up at him.

“I can handle myself, don’t worry. Now come here.” You wrap your arms and legs around him, clinging to him like a sloth. You can’t help but giggle as he turns over, allowing you to be on top of him.

“You’re so stupid.” Shigaraki sighs, closing his eyes. You brush your nose against his, kissing the tip of his nose before burying your head into the crook of his neck.

“But you love me. And I love you too.” You kiss his neck gently, closing your eyes as you rest against him.

“I do love you.” Shigaraki’s arms are wrapped over your back, holding you down on top of him. He smiles and finally feels how tired he was.

“I’m gonna go make breakfast soon, so take a little nap okay?” You sit up and kiss his forehead.

“I can’t fall asleep without you.” Shigaraki mumbles, holding you tighter.

“This is a bad idea. I’m gonna fall back asleep too.” You mumble reaching for a blanket. Shigaraki helps cover the both of you.

“Guess we’re napping then.” Shigaraki kisses your cheek, nuzzling his head against yours.

“Guess so.” Your words are quiet as you slip back to sleep, peacefully dozing off as Shigaraki does the same.

It’s a bit of a long nap, a couple hours pass. And when you wake up, you make some food for the both of you, eating a big meal while watching a show on Netflix. The day is all about Shigaraki and so cuddles are a must when you’re finished eating.

You switch from basic cuddling to sitting in his lap, to even under his baggy t-shirt, your head poking through the head-hole, your back against his chest.

It’s a long day, but it’s spent with Shigaraki, taking care of him and showing him how much you truly adore him. And he loves it.

And at the end of the night, when you go to bed for real after gaming for an unreal amount of time, he holds you close and kisses the top of your head. You’re tuckered out completely sound asleep as he begins to doze off himself.

He loves you. He really does.

»»————-　★　————-««

masterlist

[shotofire]

There’s Just Something About Him

•SHOTO TODOROKI x READER

•Overview: having feelings for the icy hot boy just seemed like a lost cause

•Warnings: just some cursing, meantions of anxiety.

•Season: 3

-

You’d always found the split haired boy attractive, but nothing ever went beyond that. It seems that even if you wanted it to nerves would just be in the way. Besides, everyone’s working to become pro-hero’s, who has time for a relationship? With all the shit going on you were almost positive that Todoroki didn’t have you in mind at all. The constant sneak attacks from villains, not knowing when the next person is going to get hurt, it was all too much.

Atleast that’s what you tried to convince yourself. The sweet, quiet boy who’d caught your eye since the first day of school just couldn’t possibly like you. He couldn’t possibly let a thought like that even make it halfway into his head. You’d lost hope a couple months into school, realizing fate definitely wasn’t on your side.

The two of you never got partnered up or even in the same group. It’s as if something is telling you it’s not meant to be. Sure you’d taken your own initiative and made conversation with the boy, but it’s always short lived. He wasn’t the best at talking unless he was on an adrenaline rush during a practice scenario. You had never gotten the luck of him wanting to use your quirks together either.

It truly felt hopeless.

You tried your best not to dwell on these things. If it was meant to be it just would’ve happened by now. Right?

The thoughts left your mind as you walked with your fellow classmates. Today is an exciting day, it was time to move into the new dorms. It took way too much convincing with your family, but eventually they caved in. You knew it’d be hard, they’re just worried about you. At this point the whole world was worried about all of the UA students safety. But everyone can agree that dorms are the safest it can get with all of the new high tech security.

You all stopped, admiring the new tall building in front of you. Knowing Todoroki was going to be in the same building as you every night had your anxiety on edge. But you were also... excited? For what, you had no idea. It was just a swirl of emotions.

Oh no, he’s gonna see my puffy morning eyes.

The happy chatter was cut short when Mr. Aizawa started talking about hero licenses, something that seemed to slip everyone’s minds. He was rather intimidating, eyes stern and serious. It sent a wave of uneasiness throughout the group. He knew the whole class was aware of the plan to save Bakugou, and he wasn’t happy. You stare at him with legs beginning to tremble.

His words cut deep as he threatened the possibility of expelling the entire class. You definitely wouldn’t put it past him, he seems like the type. But, as he said, due to All Might’s retirement the need for hero’s was strong. He couldn’t just get rid of such potential.

You looked at Todoroki’s face and it was frozen, he seemed more worried than anyone else. His heterochromia eyes stayed fixed on Mr. Aizawa, and you couldn’t help but let yourself take in his features. Sure you see the boy almost everyday but it’s hard to get good long looks when you’re sitting in class, he’d easily feel your gaze. There’s already been a couple times where he’s caught you and the embarrassment was too much to handle again.

His jaw was cleanched and sharp as ever. You just loved it. You wondered if it was weird to think about running your slim fingers along the bone of his jaw, it was just so beautiful.

“(y/n), are you even listening to me? Or are you just going to stare at Todoroki?”

In that moment it felt like you were going to throw up. All eyes shot to you, including Todoroki. Mr. Aizawa was a real ass sometimes but this definitely was the worst thing hes ever done to you, and he’d made you fall on your face after taking away your quirk infront of the whole class. That was absolutely nothing compared to this.

“I- uh, I-I wasn’t, I just-“ you were totally at loss for words. You’d never been more embarrassed in your life. The heat on your face was hotter than ever, and you knew it was visible as well.

Mr. Aizawa rolled his eyes, no longer caring about the predicament, “Anyways, that’s all. Look alive, enjoy your new home.”

That statement didn’t help anyone’s nerves after his little intimidation speech, but you had it the worst. Your face was still red and you could feel your heartbeat in your ears. Today was not going the way you hoped, and you didn’t dare even peak at Todoroki. You couldn’t help but think he thought you were weird. A girl he barely talks to constantly staring at him, there’s no way he didn’t think that.

The speech about where the boys and girls were was given, including where everything else was. But you could hardly pay attention focus on anything, and you didn’t dare look up.

It was time to decorate your rooms and make it your own, and you couldn’t be more relieved. Finally away from that embarrassment, even though it was waiting for you on the other side of your closed door.

“damnit,” you cursed. No one was going to forget that and you knew it. And the girls were beyond nosey when it came to crushes, especially Ashido.

After a couple hours of getting things together there was a knock on your door. You immediately froze. It’s like you had forgotten where you were and what had happened for a little bit, but of course you were quickly brought back to reality.

“Who is it?” You asked.

“Its Uraraka, can I come in?”

Shes always the sweetest and you knew she wouldn’t bug you about anything. Especially after seeing the way you reacted. Uraraka always had her suspicions that you found Todoroki cute, your eyes practically lit up everytime he did something.

You granted her permission and continued to put your pillows neatly on the bed. She was in her pj’s but definitely seemed wide awake.

“Oh wow, your room is so cute (y/n)! Nothing compared to mine,” her smile was huge. You just adored her, she always brightened up your mood.

“Thank you so much Uraraka, you’ll have to show me your room later before that is confirmed,” you smiled back.

“Oh course! Actually, speaking of rooms, that’s what I came here for. The girls and I convinced the guys to show us their rooms and we kinda turned it into a little contest. Wanna join?”

Her request was extremely appealing. You immediately wondered what Todoroki’s room looked like, and now was your opportunity to see it. But the nerves were still there, and the embarrassment was even stronger. You just couldn’t face everyone right not, especially Todoroki’s. He probably didn’t want your creep self in there anyways.

“Thanks for asking Uraraka, but i’m very tired. I was just planning on finishing my room and crashing. But I still would like to see your room sometime tomorrow,” you said while trying to hold your smile. But she could see the said frown behind it, but she didn’t want to bother you any further. She could only imagine how she’d react and feel if Mr. Aizawa did that to her. She’d be completely horrified.

“You got it, see you tomorrow (y/n). Sleep well!”

She leaves, shutting the door behind her. Your smile quickly fades and your shoulders fall limp.

I really wish I could see his room, I bet it’s awesome.

In all honestly you figured Todoroki would be relieved you didn’t show. God, class tomorrow was going to be hell. You just knew it, there’s no way you’d be able to focus knowing the whole class knows you’re a freak who can’t keep your eyes off the icy hot boy.

You pushed your thoughts aside, ignoring them to the best of your ability. You attempted to sleep, but the constant stamper of footsteps above you and outside your door was keeping you from the world of dreams. The world where assholes like Mr. Aizawa didn’t completely humiliate you.

Just as sleep started to creep up on you, there was another knock on your door. It was soft, and you immediately knew it wasn’t Uraraka. You sat up in the darkness, reaching for your bedside lamp. It faintly lit the room with a yellow glow, and made a light buzzing noise. You were too tired to speak up and ask who it was, so you forced yourself out of bed.

Maybe it was Momo, she did say she was looking forward to seeing your room. You pushed your wild hair out of your face before opening the door. And when you saw who was standing there a sharp breath immediately got caught in your throat. You let out a light cough.

“Todoroki?” you asked confused. He was all alone, no one with him. The lights in the hallway were out, one could only assume the competition was over and everyone else had gone to bed. Yet here he is, standing before you.

“I wanted to talk to you,” he says as if it’s the most normal thing ever. You didn’t know what to say, he’d never even approached you first. But he can knock on your door late at night to talk to you?

You looked at him in disbelief. In that moment you realized how little you knew about this boy, and how odd this situation was.

“What time is it?” You asked, completely ignoring what he said. He huffed, he knew you’d be difficult. You two may not talk much but he’s good at observing. He knew you more than you’d think.

“Almost 12, not too late. Can I talk to you?” This time he asked, therefore making it harder to avoid.

“Uh, I-In here?” You asked.

You couldn’t help but think he was here to tell you to stop being a creep. He wasn’t interested in you and would really appreciate it if you could stop with the creepy stares.

“Anywhere is fine,” he answers.

At those words, you move aside. Widening the door so that he can come in. The smell of vanilla hit you in the face as he walked past, and his eyes immediately began to observe your room.

Todoroki is in my room... what the actual fuck is going on!?

His hand comes up to point at your wall, “Did you draw those?”

Your eyes dart to the colorful art pinned to your wall.

“Y-Yes.”

The constant stuttering was making you loose your mind. But when your anxiety is this high you can’t manage to think straight. Not even one word can come out without a struggle.

“I like them.”

You swallow, hard. He probably heard it. The room was so quiet without one of you talking, unbearably quiet. Without words the only sound was the faint buzzing of your lamp you’d turned on only a few minutes ago.

“Oh, uh, Thanks,” a blush began to creep onto your face. Your hand came up to cover your face as you looked down. You knew you looked odd in the moment, but it was better than him seeing how much he can effect you so easily.

Todoroki looked at you with sweet eyes, although you couldn’t see them due to your current state. He thought you looked cute right now, all bashful. That’s something he has always liked about you. Your cheeks got red so easily when you were embarrassed, nervous, flustered, even when you were tired.

He noticed these things because you interested him, you always had. You were way too cute and sweet to not catch his attention. He just truly sucked when it came to talking to girls. Especially pretty girls like you.

“I, um,” this time it was Todoroki at a loss for words. He had a plan before he came in, but now as he stood in your room it was much harder to think clearly.

You looked up at him, his hand was raking through his hair. He seemed almost... nervous.

Why the hell would he be nervous?

“I was uh wondering if you, uh, would like to,” he took a deep breath to clear his mind. He was stuttering too much and overthinking, it was just a simple question he was trying to get out.

He locked eyes with you, “Would you like to go grab some food after school tomorrow?”

Your mouth fell open, but you quickly covered it with your hand. There was no way, no damn way.

“You mean, j-just me and you?” You asked, making sure you were  interpretating this correctly.

“Yeah, Yeah,” He nervously laughs, “Like a uh, date.”

Like a what now?

There was absolutely no way this was real, you had to be dreaming.

“is this a joke?” You ask, but you meant to only think it.

His eyes widen and he quickly began waving his hands, “W-What? No, of course not! I really want to go on a date with you, I think it’d be fun. Plus you’re super sweet and pre-“ he stops himself.

C’mon man, you’re gonna scare her off by being too forward.

“Yeah, i’d really like that Todoroki,” your smile was surpressed by your teeth sinking into your bottom lip. At this point you wanted to jump for joy, but you didn’t want to scare this chance away.

“Okay cool, so after school. Tomorrow, you and me,” his nervous laugh comes back, “on a date.”

You can’t help but giggle, you’d never seen Todoroki so nervous before. Not in this way at least. It was one of the cutest things you’d ever seen.

“You got me after school Todoroki,” you giggled again, “You and me on a date.”

And with that, the two of you said your goodbyes, which were a little awkward considering the two of you kept letting nervous laughter slip.

As soon at the door shut, you let out a happy squeal. It didn’t even bother you that he might of heard it, you really didn’t care. You were so overjoyed that nothing could kill your mood.

On the other side of the door Todoroki had the geekiest smile on his face. He walked to his room completely satisfied. He did it, he finally asked the girl he liked on a date.

“Hell yeah,” he whispered to himself.

This definitely was heading in the right direction.



[pips-fics]

ask: hey! first of all i wanted to mention my favorite fics of yours, the one with hyunjin and felix. i love their dynamic and feel like they go really well together as a pair in a story. i also love the hyunjin and chan one because hyunjin is just so cute, he can fit into any sickfic plus, chan can be such a good caretaker and it warms my heart. could you possibly make either one where jeongin has the stomach flu or smthng and chan stays with him and is like the caretaker? if not that’s totally ok!

tw: vomiting

childlike; not a child –––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

jeongin liked to think that he was fairly mature for his age.

he enjoyed spending time on his own, and he didn’t like to burden other people with his problems, which had made him more independent than a lot of his same-aged friends. jeongin knew how to handle himself in different situations because the kept a close eye on his hyungs, and he was good at following their example. most of all, he had built up a strong mental game after years of working in the entertainment industry. most people in the industry were pretty unshakeable, but especially those who started young and stuck with it.

getting sick, though, made him feel very small, and very helpless, and when his stomach started hurting in the early morning hours, he just wanted someone to hold him. in a half-daze, jeongin willed himself up, just long enough to seek out chan’s bed. he couldn’t even really explain why, but seeing chan there, sleeping peacefully, sent a wash of relief throughout his body, so jeongin didn’t think twice before crawling in next to his oldest hyung. his stomach still hurt, but at least he was able to fall back asleep.

——

chan had planned to sleep in until 10 am, and then get right back to the studio and continue his work, but he scrapped that train of thought as soon as he woke up.

it had been about two years since jeongin had slept with him. he used to, during their trainee days, when he missed home, or had a bad day, or when a nightmare woke him up, but since they debuted, jeongin had been more determined than ever to grow up quickly. according to jeongin, that meant no more sleeping with hyungs.

it didn’t take long for chan to figure out why an exception had suddenly been made. jeongin had the most obvious fever chan had ever seen: his cheeks were flushed, his forehead was burning and shining with sweat, and he was shaking from head to toe, hogging the blankets as if his life depended on it. chan sighed, and stroked the younger boy’s head until he woke up, bleary-eyed.

“hyung…” already, jeongin looked teary. it had been so long since chan had seen their youngest member express himself so openly, a certain amount of nostalgia trickled into the otherwise painful situation, and chan smiled slightly.

“hey, innie. how are you feeling?”

lip wobbling, jeongin sniffled. he spoke quietly. “i thought if i slept, it would go away, but i just feel worse, now. i don’t know what to do.”

chan felt his eyebrows draw together. “aw, innie. can i give you a hug?”

jeongin nodded. “please…”

without another moment of hesitation, chan pulled jeongin into his arms, rubbing his back and wishing he could do more. he could feel the younger boy nuzzle his face into his shoulder, and for a few minutes, they just sat like that. jeongin and chan both relaxed in a way they hadn’t in a long time. it was a reminder of safety that they’d both needed without realizing.

it ended far too quickly for either of their preferences, but jeongin eventually pulled away, shaking. “hyung, i think i’m going to throw up,” he admitted in a whisper. chan tried not to wince, and squeezed jeongin’s hand instead. as he stood, he guided the sick boy to follow. they made their way to the bathroom hand in hand.

“i think you must’ve picked up some kind of stomach bug,” chan said, hand to jeongin’s sweaty forehead. leaning over the toilet in what was possibly the most uncomfortable position he’d been in, jeongin nodded. he didn’t know when he was going to be sick, but he was confident that he would be, eventually, and felt that it was better to be safe than sorry - even if that meant holding his aching body up in a rigid and unnatural pose. a chill ran through him, and without thinking, jeongin leaned into chan’s warmth.

“do you want me to get you some blankets?” chan asked, thoughtful as always, but jeongin shook his head. he really just wanted chan to stay right where he was. not for the first time, he felt very childish, but the last thing jeongin wanted was to be alone.

despite the drawn out wait and the steady moral support, jeongin was caught off-guard by a sudden gut-wrenching cough. it was enough to turn his stomach and send some of its contents half up his throat, and the retch that immediately followed brought with it a waterfall of soup-like sick. he heard a quick intake of breath from chan, but couldn’t spare him a glance as more coughing, heaving, and vomiting ensued.

it was absolutely vile. not just the taste, but the texture of it, of having warm liquid spill out of him with chunks of his lunch uncontrollably, splattering back in his own face. it was the inability to stop it, the feeling like he couldn’t possibly get enough air, and like it might never end.

there was a moment when he thought it was over - when he needed it to be over, because his muscles couldn’t hold him up any longer, even with chan’s support - and jeongin allowed himself to lean back as he continued to cough. he was hardly coherent, but as his mouth started to water and his coughs became headier, he tried to follow chan’s guidance and lean back over the toilet. they weren’t quite fast enough, and a mouthful of mushy brown barf ended up on jeongin’s t-shirt.

“it’s alright,” chan said, feeling more helpless than ever. “you’re okay, innie.”

he wasn’t even sure if jeongin could hear him, but he wanted to make sure than jeongin knew he wasn’t alone. the next few rushes of throw up were, fortunately, the last ones, at least for the time being, and jeongin immediately reached for chan’s arms when he was finished.

“good boy,” chan said, helping jeongin out of his soiled shirt. jeongin blinked, teary eyed, and chan placed a hand on the younger man’s head, cradling it gently. “you did so well. do you feel better?”

jeongin nodded. “i’m just so tired, hyung, i know you just got up, but–” he cut himself off.

“how about you drink a bit of water, and then we can get back in bed?” chan offered hopefully. jeongin didn’t look entirely pleased, but he nodded. chan smiled.

the two of them went back to the bedroom together, and jeongin was able to keep the water down. it surprised him how quickly they became comfortable in the tiny bed together, but it felt right. despite the years that had passed, there was still a part of jeongin that was chan’s little-kid brother. it was more reassuring than he could have imagined to be reminded that chan still recognized and accepted that part of him, too.

——

a very quick reader survey (specific to this fic!) to make me smile and possibly send a free fic request that i may or may not actually use :D

——

feel free to send more asks! / rules

[reyescarlos]

look after you || a buddie fic

❄️ @911giftexchange fic for @bombera      hey, tori! i'm wishing you the happiest of holidays! this year has truly been one for the books so i hope this fic will help to end 2020 on a good note for you! it kinda ran away from me but i hope you’ll enjoy! ❄️

word count: 4.7k || read on ao3

You've begun to feel like home, yeah What's mine is yours to leave or take What's mine is yours to make your own

Infamously December is known to be a hectic month but now, with just a little over two weeks until Christmas, Eddie is feeling the pressure. His work schedule leaves little to no time for him to prepare for the holiday season, time slipping through his fingers with such ease that it had come as a surprise to see just how close he and the rest of the world were getting to the big day.

His concern was bad enough but this last week his mind has been additionally preoccupied with worrying over his son who is the latest person to come down with the bug that’s running rampant. If he isn’t at work, he’s right by Chris’ side, doting over him and doing his best to insure his comfort.

Throughout it all he has had Buck, his best friend and confidant, a man he can share virtually any thought with. All, really, but one. Eddie groans internally. His unspoken feelings for Buck are the last thing he needs to dwell on now. But the thought is far easier to think than put into practice with Buck sharing this space with him. Even on his day off Buck opts to spend time at the Diaz house, an additional set of hands that Eddie is beyond grateful for at such a time. Buck has long since been a staple in his home and now, more than ever, he’s grateful for his companionship and help to keep him from going under. Buck seems to understand him in ways very few can, sensing his needs and thoughts without a single word uttered.

He can feel Buck’s eyes on him as he pops two slices of bread into the toaster but he focuses on his task, doing his best to keep his head on straight though his mind is a riot of thoughts.

Eddie massages the back of his neck to relieve some tension, stretching it a bit as he draws in a breath.

“Alright, what’s going with you?” Buck asks.

Eddie turns back to face him and shrugs. “It’s nothing. I’m just trying to figure out a game plan. I still have to finish holiday shopping but you’ve seen our schedule for the next two weeks. We’re practically going to be living at the station.”

“But we have today off and it’s only noon. That’s plenty of time for you to head out there while I stay here with little man. See? Simple solution.”

“It’s your day off. I couldn’t do that.”

“I can watch him, it’s not a problem,” Buck insists.

Eddie hesitates. It’s a great offer, one that would quickly remedy his dilemma. “I don’t know, Buck. It’s a big ask. It’s short notice and he’s sick.”

“It’s not a big ask. It’s not even an ask at all; I’m volunteering. And besides,” Buck says, puffing up his chest. “Buckleys don’t catch colds.”

Eddie’s mouth twists to one side in thought. Today really is the one true window of time he’ll have and it’ll certainly be easier to stealthily buy Chris’ presents without his observant son being able to see what he’s purchasing. Resigned, Eddie nods slowly, knowing this is the best offer he could possibly have.

“Alright, yeah, okay. I’ll try and hurry back but still, I know it’ll be a few hours until I’ll be back home.”

Buck rolls his eyes. “Would you relax? Take all the time you need, seriously. Chris and I always have a blast together. We’ll be just fine. I promise.”

“No, I know he’s good with you. I just…”

“Suck at accepting help, yes, I know,” Buck teases, patting him on the shoulder with one hand and gesturing towards the front of the house with the other.

“Go. I’m officially kicking you out. Don’t forget to get me something nice, yeah?”

~*~*~

Eddie returns home with a trunk full of presents after a very successful trip to the mall. He’s managed to get for everyone on his list and the relief he feels in having this task officially scratched off his to-do list is a major weight off his shoulders. He carries a few bags in with him to the house. From the moment he steps inside he can hear the raucous laughter of Christopher and Buck coming from the living room, his son breaking into a small coughing fit afterwards.

Eddie stashes his purchases into the closet, hiding the bags under his jacket in a feeble attempt to bury it for the time being. Buck and Chris carry on chatting and Eddie is certain that neither of them realizes he’s gotten back, so wrapped up they are in their conversation.

“Maybe we could go to New York like Kevin next year for Christmas? Me, you, and Dad.”

Eddie feels his body tense and he stays in place, curious as to what Buck’s response will be.

Eddie could easily picture it, the three of them taking on the city. The images that flood his mind teem with warmth and joy and sincerely, Eddie would love nothing more than to wrap himself in that. But a trip that elaborate wouldn’t be a casual thing between friends, at least not for him. It’s one thing to have Buck over at his place or for them to go on outings around LA with Chris on weekends. A Christmas getaway would carry far more weight. It’s something that families do. Something twinges a bit in Eddie’s chest at the thought. Somewhere along the way, without Eddie even fully realizing it had solidified itself, that’s precisely what Buck has become to him, and apparently Chris too.

“Now there’s an idea. I would love to go with you guys. Sure you wouldn’t mind me tagging along?”

Chris is quick to respond, casting away any trace of doubt. “Nope, the trip wouldn’t be the same without you.”

Eddie can hear Buck sigh. It’s clear just how touched his best friend is by Chris’ sentiment and Eddie would have to agree with his son. Any trip, any facet of life really, is so much better when Buck is thrown into the mix. He’s so interwoven into the fabric of their life, it’d be hard to picture any moment, big or small, without him there experiencing it with them.

“See, this is why you’re my favorite Diaz. Don’t tell your dad I said that though. It may break his old man heart,” Buck laughs, Chris joining in.

This melody is Eddie’s favorite sound, the lightheartedness of his two favorite guys sharing a private joke. It’s the little things like this that light him up, that fill him with a warmth so vibrant and strong that it takes every ounce of strength in him not to sit Buck down one day and have a serious conversation. But Eddie has never been good with words and in a case like this, for a topic this important, he knows a talk like that would be best handled with care. Whenever, or rather if ever, that day comes, Eddie hopes he’ll be prepared to handle it. Instead he’ll stick to this, to cloaking his feelings for the sake of keeping the scales balanced.

“With laughs that big I’m guessing someone is feeling better?” he says aloud, essentially announcing his presence.

He steps into the living room and sees the space has been transformed. A giant fort is set up in the center of the room and at the mouth of it is Buck and Chris stretched out side by side on pillows from the couch and Chris’ bed. It looks like the coziest of setups and Eddie isn’t at all surprised to see that Buck got creative in trying to make Chris as comfortable as possible.

Chris slaps on an innocent smile but Buck apparently has a harder time schooling his features.

“Eddie, you’re back. I didn’t even hear you come in,” he says, picking up the remote.

The end credits for Home Alone 2 flit by on screen. Buck hits pause as Chris reaches for the DVD of A Charlie Brown Christmas.

“Can we watch this one next?” he asks Buck who’s already nodding.

“Oh, definitely. This is one of my all-time favorites. How about I get you another bowl of soup and then we can fire this one up. Sound good?”

Chris gives him a two thumbs up and flops back against the pillows, plucking a tissue out of the box and wiping at his nose. Eddie frowns seeing his son so sick but the best he can do is continue supplying him with medicine and fluids to help him through it.

Buck carefully climbs out of the fort and walks over to Eddie, the two of them going into the kitchen.

“How’d your shopping go?” Buck asks as he opens the fridge and takes out a container.

“Really well. I managed to get stuff for everyone on my list, including a certain pest I know,” he jokes the second Buck opens his mouth, no doubt to check about the status of his own gift.

“Well, I’m glad you have your priorities in order then, thank you.”

A comfortable silence falls between them as Buck moves around the kitchen and Eddie is struck, not for the first time since befriending Buck, at how comfortable his friend is inside of his home. That’s all Eddie could have ever wanted. Buck moves with such assurance taking a bowl down from the cupboard, pulling a spoon out of a drawer, knowing exactly where everything is without hesitation or having to ask. It warms his heart to see this, to know that Buck must feel comfortable here, that this could somehow be home.

“Thanks again for watching Chris for me. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it,” he says as Buck pops the now filled bowl into the microwave.

“Don’t mention it. I love hanging out with him and if I can help you in any way, I will. Always.”

Buck holds his gaze and for a moment, Eddie thinks he’ll say more. There’s something in his expression that looks as if he’s trying to communicate something wordlessly but far too soon, the moment passes and shortly after the microwave beeping breaks the silence between them. Buck smiles softly before turning away but Eddie keeps his eyes trained on his back, getting lost in his thoughts.

Maybe this is all in his head or perhaps an unhealthy amount of wishful thinking is at play but lately something has felt different between them, as if there’s something going unspoken.

Buck gets a tray and puts the bowl on top of it, carefully picking it up from the countertop.

“I can bring it to him,” Eddie says, gesturing to take the tray. “You can get out of here, if you want. You should enjoy what’s left of your day off.”

Buck rolls his eyes as he side steps and laughs. “That’s exactly what I’m doing now. Didn’t you hear? It’s Charlie Brown time. No way in hell am I missing him or that tree.”

Eddie smiles softly and shakes his head. He opens his mouth to say something but falls short on words. Buck seems to understand regardless as he smiles back and nods.

“I know,” he says simply. Eddie wants so desperately to ask what exactly it is that Buck knows, what he feels but he lets the matter go for now.

This right here is more than enough, he reasons. To have Buck look at him and comprehend even a fraction of his gratitude.

~*~*~

Eddie knows he worries too much but watching Buck throughout their busy morning and early afternoon with back to back calls, he can’t help but to feel a little troubled over Buck’s slower pace and quieter nature. Usually he could be counted on to be the most energized and talkative during calls but today he’s so much more subdued and it feels like a real cause for concern.

“You okay?” Eddie asks, searching Buck’s face as they wash their hands in the bathroom to prep for lunch.

“Yeah, I just need some food in me and I’ll be good to go.”

Buck smiles reassuringly but Eddie isn’t convinced. Nonetheless he follows Buck up to the loft where the rest of the crew is already gathered around the table. Eddie takes a seat beside Hen who sits across from Chimney, the two already engaged in conversation.

This leaves Eddie the coveted spot of sitting opposite Buck.

Buck settles in at the table beside Chimney, placing a hand against his throat as he clears it before he reaches to the center of the table to start fixing his plate. Eddie watches him curiously as he’s done all day, noting the way Buck seems to be moving a bit slower than usual, the man’s eyes trained in focus on the simple task of putting food on his plate.

Eddie wonders if he’s reading too much into Buck’s body language but given how well he knows his friend, he feels safe in his assumption that Buck is off today because he’s sick and putting forth his best efforts to disguise this fact. Out in the field it was easy to attribute Buck’s pace to the amount of work the team had to put into their calls but now, with everyone finally able to unwind and catch their breath, Buck still looks put out.

“Buck, you’re really hot,” Chimney says as Buck’s arm grazes his. Eddie purses his lips, his suspicion confirmed easily.

Buck flashes a smile and a wink. “Tell me something I don’t know. But I don’t think Maddie would take it well to know you’re hitting on her brother.”

Chim smacks his hand against his forehead and shakes his head.

“You’re no match for your sister, I can tell you that right now, but that’s not what I meant. Seriously, don’t you feel warm?”

Buck shakes his head. “No. It’s actually kind of cold in here, isn’t it?”

Hen pushes back from the table across from him, putting a hand over her mouth and nose.

“Nope, you’ve got to go. Cap, this bug is making the rounds quick. I swear half of Denny’s class is out with it.”

Bobby rises from his seat and walks over to Buck, placing a hand on his forehead. Buck looks like a grumpy child as his bottom lip pokes out slightly.

“Jeez, Buck. You’re like a furnace. I’m afraid I have to send you home.”

“But, Cap!” Buck tries to protest but Bobby shakes his head and holds up a hand to stop any more objections.

“That’s an order. And here are some more for you: drink lots of fluids, get in bed, and stay there. Be sure to get a ton of rest until this fever breaks. I know you want to stay on and help but you’re going to sideline the whole team if we don’t do this. Sorry, Buck.”

Buck sighs defeatedly and pushes back in his seat, rising to his feet. The crew murmurs their get well soon wishes to Buck as he heads toward the stairs and Eddie’s heart sinks to the pit of his stomach knowing how and why Buck is sick in the first place. He rises from his seat, quickly wiping at his mouth with a napkin before following him to the locker room.

Eddie stays quiet at the door as Buck gets his locker open and takes out his bag.

“So much for Buckleys don’t get sick, huh?” Buck says with a sigh, sitting down on the bench.

Eddie steps further into the room and sits beside him, putting a hand on his shoulder and giving it a light squeeze. He’s surprised when Buck’s hand comes to rest over his. Buck’s hand is warm and Eddie relishes in his touch but too soon, the feeling is gone; Buck quickly lets go and clears his throat, shifting his attention to his bag. Eddie’s hand falls limply into his lap.

“This one’s on me. I’ll stop by after work and check on you, okay?” he ventures.

“You don’t have to. I’ll be alright.”

“Maybe so but I’d feel a hell of a lot better seeing that for myself. I can drop you home now, if you want. I’m sure Bobby would let me run off for a bit.”

Buck smiles softly and shakes his head. “You’re a good friend, Eddie, but I can manage the trip home. I promise I’ll follow Dr. Nash’s orders to the letter. I’ll be back on my feet in no time, just you wait and see.”

~*~*~

It’s been two days and Buck’s fever has been making its presence known; it’s Chris’ symptoms all over again but Eddie is ready for it, already having placed a call to his grandmother for even more of her miracle soup. Eddie’s been anxious at work, keeping his phone within reach at all times just waiting to get replies from Buck when he checks in. Some messages are more coherent than others but overall it seems as if Buck is hanging in there as much as can be expected.

Eddie’s certain that what his friend needs now is his grandmother’s home-cooking to really send Buck’s ailment packing. It’s to her house he heads straight to after his shift, his thoughts resting heavily on Buck’s recovery.

“Abuela?” Eddie calls out as he locks back the front door of her home.

“In here!”

Eddie follows her voice to the kitchen where he finds his grandmother ladling her soup into Tupperware, the remnants of vegetables and spices on the counter.

He greets her with a kiss on each cheek, taking a set back so she can continue filling the container she’s halfway done with.

“Thanks for doing this...again,” he muses. “One day I swear I’ll learn how to make this stuff.”

She gives him a doubtful look but smiles. “I don’t mind making it for you and your boys.”

Eddie eyes her for a moment, taking note of the implication of her wording. Unsure of how or even if he should call attention to it, Eddie switches gears a bit.

“I’m sure Buck is going to appreciate it. This soup was practically magic for Chris. Buck is chomping at the bit to get back to the station. This is just the thing to get him there again soon.”

His grandmother sets the ladle down and secures the lid on the container, double checking that it’s properly sealed.

“And I’m sure you’re eager for him to get back, too.”

Eddie is brought up short by this, his brows furrowing in thought. Isabel Diaz is as formidable a woman as ever and is always far too good at reading things that weren’t spoken with Eddie. In a case like this, it only makes him feel on edge rather than comforted.

“What are you getting at?”

Isabel shrugs her shoulders but despite how nonchalant the gesture is, Eddie knows there must be more to her thoughts than she’s letting on just then.

“Nothing. Nothing at all. Buck is your best friend, no? I would think it’d make sense that you’d want your partner back.”

Eddie can feel heat rising in his face and quickly turns to the pantry, opening the door to it and taking a tote bag off one of the shelves, taking advantage of the brief moment of reprieve to pull himself together.

Eddie returns to her side and begins packing away the various containers. His grandmother is nothing if not efficient and thorough. These batches will be enough to get Buck through the week.

Eddie stays quiet while he works but just as he’s putting away the last container, she places a hand on his arm, stilling him.

He turns his head slightly to look at her, not quite meeting her eye. She takes it as the invitation it is to say whatever is on her mind.

“He’s lucky to have a friend like you,” she says softly, as if in thought.

“I’m the lucky one here, believe me. Buck’s always a huge help. At work, around the house, with Chris. This is the least I could do.”

It’s only then that Eddie looks at his grandmother fully and the knowing smile on her face is so comforting that Eddie feels the tension in his body melt away.

“People like that are hard to find in life. Be sure to hold on the good ones for however long you can.”

~*~*~

Visits to Buck’s after work have become the norm all week and with each trip, Eddie feels more assured that Buck will be better in no time. Today’s check in brings on a sense of déjà vu. In Buck’s living room now is a replica of the fort he and Chris constructed at Eddie’s place a week and a half prior.

“What’s your obsession with forts anyway?” he asks as he climbs inside, surrounded by plush pillows and blankets.

“Maddie used to make them for me all the time when I was little,” Buck says. “Building one with Chris has me kinda nostalgic, I guess.”

Eddie smiles to himself at the mental image of Buck as a kid. It isn’t too hard to picture what he must have looked like back then as he looks at him now, a blanket draped over his head and shoulders sitting cross-legged in front of the laptop, a movie already playing.

“What are you watching?” Eddie asks, settling in.

“Love Actually.”

Eddie laughs and shakes his head. “I didn’t take you for a romcom lover but I guess that somehow makes sense now that I think about it.”

“What’s not to love about them? The build up, the will-they-won’t-they but you know they totally will, the big sweeping declaration at the end? That’s what everyone roots for. Who doesn’t like seeing people in love live happily ever after? It’s the dream,” Buck concludes.

Eddie doesn’t argue the point. How could he possibly when that’s all he’s been hoping to have himself?

“That’s really your dream?” he asks tentatively.

Buck shrugs. “I definitely wouldn’t say no if it were to happen. But in order for all of that, someone would actually have to fall head over heels for me,” he laughs wryly.

“You make it sound like such an impossibility. Like you’re somehow difficult to love.”

Buck’s head tilts to the side a bit. “You don’t think that I am?”

It’s such a loaded question, a dangerous one really but still, the words fall effortlessly from Eddie’s lips as he replies.

“I would think that falling for you is one of the easiest things a person could do.”

Eddie realizes this conversation is veering off course and Buck probably isn’t thinking very clearly given the state of things. For all Eddie knows, Buck is hopped up on cold medicine and doesn’t realize he’s asking leading questions. Eddie falls silent then, laying back and staring up the blanket overhead as the movie continues to play on screen. The seconds stretch tauntingly and Eddie knows he’s said too much, gone too far over the line they’ve been treating as a tightrope.

He hears the tap of the keyboard and the movie pauses. Eddie keeps his eyes trained above him, hoping they can avoid delving deeper into this. But he’s kicked open the gate, ushered in this line of conversation he’s been terrified to have.

“Eddie, I—,” Buck starts but Eddie isn’t so sure he wants, or is even ready, to hear what Buck has to say in response.

“You should get some sleep.”

“But I want to talk to you. I missed you today. I always miss you when you’re away.”

Eddie freezes, unsure of if this an open statement Buck would be making if he wasn’t sick or possibly feeling awkward given Eddie’s last comment but he’d be lying to himself if he said it isn’t something that makes his chest warm right in the center.

“I’m here now and I’m not going anywhere all night,” he assures.

“All night? What about Chris?”

“He’s probably on his way to a sugar coma at my grandmother’s right about now. She’s baking tonight and Chris, of course, volunteered to help. I know he’s just in for the leftover frosting and taste testing.”

This seems to be a good enough distraction. Buck laughs softly and grows quiet, pressing the laptop again and Eddie is certain he’s never been more grateful to hear a bunch of British people in conversation with each other. He opts to just listen to rather than watch the movie; his focus is completely shot.

After a few minutes, Buck sighs and burrows in against Eddie’s side. Instinctively Eddie wraps an arm around his friend. Before he can undo it or reprimand himself for getting too familiar with Buck, the man buries his face against the side of Eddie’s neck.

He’s all too aware of each breath Buck takes, his skin tickling with every exhale. There’s nothing casual or platonic about this and Eddie’s heart aches so painfully in his chest that it takes every ounce of willpower he has to keep breathing. But still, before he can allow himself to truly accept what Buck getting this close to him means, he needs to hear it from the man himself.

“Buck?”

“You didn’t give me a chance to say anything before so I figured I’d show you where my head and heart are instead.”

Eddie sits up slowly, Buck moving with him. Eddie takes in his expression and sees a real clarity in Buck’s eyes that leaves no room for uncertainty that he’s serious. Eddie has spent so long feeling terrified of being presented with this moment but he takes comfort in realizing this isn’t one-sided like he’s feared.

“Is this the part with the big sweeping declaration?” he jokes lamely to work out his nerves.

“I sure hope so. That tends to always be the best part.”

“You’re a lot better at this than me,” he says, rubbing his palm against the front of his jeans.

“To be fair, I watch a lot of romantic comedies in my downtime.”

Eddie can’t help but to laugh at this, grateful for the levity Buck brings to this moment. He cups the man’s cheek and strokes his face lightly with his thumb as he stares into his eyes.

“I’ve never been too good with this sort of stuff but you make me want to figure out a way how to be. Maybe in time I’ll be able to get the words out but, if nothing else, just know that I feel a lot for you, Buck. With you, I feel everything.”

Eddie leans forward and kisses Buck’s forehead, his eyes drifting closed as he lingers for a moment. Buck sighs contentedly, one hand settling on Eddie’s knee. Eddie pulls away then, resting his forehead against Buck’s, his fingers carding gently through his hair at the back of his head. Buck bumps his nose softly to Eddie’s who smiles at the move.

“Crap, sorry,” Buck says, pulling away. “What if you get sick next?”

“I survived Chris’ fever. I think I’ll be fine with yours too. If not, then I’ll just have to commission Abuela to make more soup,” he laughs. “Speaking of which, I should get some for you. Or tea or—”

“No,” Buck interjects, holding on to his wrist gently, keeping him in place. “Please, just...stay here for a little while longer with me?”

Eddie looks at him, takes in that soft pleading look and nods. “Whatever you want.”

Buck smiles at this and lays down on his side. Eddie doesn’t hesitate in spooning him, his arm securing snugly across Buck’s hip. His face burrows in the crook of the man’s neck, chin propped against his shoulder.

“Now will you get some sleep?” he asks quietly.

Buck laughs, light and carefree. “I don’t see how I can be expected to now after all of this,” he replies just as quietly, playing with Eddie’s fingers.

“This feels like Christmas morning as a kid. All that excitement, wondering what’s in store. No,” he continues, shaking his head. “ I couldn’t possibly sleep now. I don’t want to miss a second of what comes next.”

[supernaturallyobsessedchic]

What I’ve Done

Dean x Reader

Warnings: It’s a dark-ish one, angst, language, spn level gore, spn 15x19 spoilers, fluffy end

Summary: It’s the final showdown, Sam, Dean, Jack and the reader against Chuck. But Chuck somehow gets to the reader controlling her every move.

Masterlist

DTRH Masterlist

Mobile Masterlist

a/n: Italics is the reader.

a/n #2: This has been bugging me for a few days, I wrote this in like, 2 days. Feedback is much appreciated.

~

“Y/N?” Dean asked.

Sam, Dean and Y/N were face to face with Chuck.

Her face was totally blank and emotionless.

“Three versus one, don’t you guys think that’s a bit unfair.” Chuck says in an evil tone. “How ‘bout I take Y/N on my side and make the odds fair.” He gestures y/n to join his side.

She walked over to Chuck’s side. Dean looking offended and hurt.

“Dean, it’s mind control. Look at Y/N.” Sam says.

“Her eyes have a red color to them. Sam, I can’t hurt her.”

“Which is why I picked her. I knew you wouldn’t hurt her; she wouldn’t hurt you. I’ll love the outcome of this story.” Chuck says, looking confident once again. “Y/N, get him.”

Her eyes flashed red; her sights set on Dean.

“Y/N, I know you’re in there, fight him.” Dean tried to get to her as he backed away from her as she advanced him.

She doesn’t respond.

Dean! Please get away from me!

“Y/N, Please!” He begged. Turning to run in the forest to try to lose her.

“Now, Sam. Let’s have some fun.” Chuck says eyeing Sam.

 She was still fairly close to Dean as he tried to give her the slip in the forest.

“Please, baby, please.” Dean began to panic. Unsure of what to do.

But she caught up. Grabbing a fist full of his shirt and coat. Landing a hard punch to his face. Breaking the skin, cutting his cheek immediately from the force.

“Y/N, Please I know you’re in there. I know how strong you are. Fight him, he’s got nothing on you.” Dean tried again.

I’m trying Dean, it’s God after all. Now, fight back and get away from me!

But she kept punching him.

Dean’s face now swollen, a black eye, split lip and cheek as he struggled to breathe.

“Y/N, I love you baby. I know you must be fighting hard.”

Dean, he’s too strong, you have to kill me. Fight back. SOMETHING!

“But I can’t live with hurting you,” he says, as if he heard her plea.

“I love you too damn much sweetheart.”

Dean, please!

Y/N began to hesitate, she was winning.

“Y/N?” Dean questioned.

“Dean, please get away from me.” Y/N forced out, fighting Chuck.

“You’re almost out of it baby, keep fighting.” Dean urged.

“I have no control over my body Dean,” Y/N says as her hand that had his shirt and coat moved to his shoulder.

“I know it must be hard baby, I’ve seen you fight some tough things. Me included you can fight anything.” Dean continued.

“Y/N, Fight him!” Dean shouted.

She felt Chuck’s power taking hold. She grunted and groaned in the pain it took to fight him.

“Finish him!” Chuck yelled from the edge of the forest.

The red flashed over her eyes again, and her free hand drove itself through his chest, his heart in hand.

NO!

She pulled her hand from Dean’s chest, dropping his heart to his side. Dean fell over with a thud on the forest ground.

“NO!” Y/N Shouted with such force. She forced Chuck out.

“This is for Dean, you son of a bitch.” Jack says.

Jack brings his hands to Chuck, drawing his power from him. Making Jack a new God.

“Dean.” Y/N choked as she crawled to him.

He laid lifeless on his side in a pool of his own blood.

“Dean, I’m so sorry.” She cried.

Sobs tore through her as she let out a pained cry. Falling to her knees.

Jack ran over to Dean and Y/N, Sam in toe.

“Jack, can you---”

“I’m way ahead of you Sam.”

And with a snap of his fingers, Dean takes in a breath of air. His chest wound healed. As if she didn’t just rip his heart out.

On her knees next to Dean, she has her face in her hands crying fiercely.

Dean, without saying anything, brings her to his arms holding her close in his embrace.

Despite her trembling in his hold, he kept calm for her sake.

“It’s okay sweetheart, I’m right here.” He soothed in her ear, over and over again.

 She laid her head down to sleep that night. But is plagued by the images from her fight with Chuck she can’t forget.

“I love you sweetheart.” She heard Dean whisper.

She remembered the feeling of her hand driving through his chest and grabbing his heart. She remembered all of it.

She knew it was a nightmare, when Dean was standing before her, a blood red blotch on his shirt where his heart was ripped out. With an apologetic smile on his face, holding his hand out for her to hold.

She tearfully shook her head before she fell to her knees to cry.

She shot awake clutching her blanket, trying to shake her nightmare.

I have to. She thought. As she got up out of bed and out of her room. She made her way to Dean’s room.

She quietly opened his door, slowly entering.

She can see his sleeping form in the dark room, the only light coming from the hallway.

Miracle’s head perked up as she woke him up, but doesn’t bark or make any noise, sensing she’s upset.

Tears began to well up in her eyes.

He’s okay. She thought with a sigh of relief.

And she sniffled.

Dean stirred, feeling someone in his room. And hearing a sniffle behind him.

He turns to sit up and face her.

“Y/N?” He asks, confused yet concerned. “What’s up, are you okay?”

“Dean,” she says, holding back cries.

He gets up out of bed, concerned for her.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong, what’s got you crying?” he asked. As he got to her, hands on her shoulders.

She stood at chest height to the eldest Winchester, she flinched at her minds eye tricking her in seeing a blood red blotch on the chest of his shirt. She turns her head away.

“Talk to me sweetie, what’s got you upset?”

“Nightmare.” She breathed.

“Lets hang out for minute.” Dean suggests.

He walks her out of his room and to the Dean Cave. Thanks to Mrs. Butters, the TV is fixed and fully functional.

He knows that watching some movies, like comedy’s, cartoons, would help take her mind off of bad hunts. And after the events at the lake with Chuck, he knew what her nightmare was about without even having to ask her.

He pops in one of his personal favorites, Caddyshack.

Y/N and Dean sat side by side on the couch, but that only lasted for one millisecond. Once Dean sat down after popping the movie in, he takes Y/N by the arm and guides her to lay at his side for a little cuddling comfort.

It didn’t take long for the walls to break at his embrace.

“It’s okay baby, I’m right here. Nothing’s going to hurt your or me, anymore.” He soothes.

One movie turned into three. She calmed down after the first movie, crying on and off during Caddyshack. She would move off of Dean some so he could change the movie.

During, Bounty Hunter, he felt her relax against him and her breathing had evened out and slowed down some. He looked down and seen she fallen asleep against him.

He heard a pair of footsteps enter the Dean Cave.

“Dean.” Sam whispers.

“Hey Sammy, what time is it?” Dean asked, wondering why Sam’s up so early.

“It’s after 5 in the morning. Have you two been up all night?”

“Not really, she had a bad nightmare that had her crying. Thought I’d sit up with her watching some movies.”

“You two are perfect for each other, how you guys can keep each other in check.”

“I wouldn’t want to mess this up.”

“You wouldn’t Dean, if anything, it’d be making it stronger and better.”

“I suppose.”

“Is she asleep?” Sam asked.

“She is.”

Sam doesn’t say anything, he hurries to Dean’s room. Knowing the type of blanket that Dean has that Sam caught her cuddled in after a bad hunt that had Dean in the hospital. She slept in her room but with this blanket of Dean’s.

He came back to the Dean cave, draping it across the two on the couch.

“It may not be comfortable, but you need sleep Dean.” Sam suggests.

“I’m sure I’ll crash here in a few.” Dean says. He yawns not long after admitting he was tired.

He let his eyes fall closed, and he fell asleep holding his girl.

Sam only shook his head with a smile at Dean. He left them be, but Miracle joined them by sleep by the couch next to Dean.

~

FEEDBACK IS FUEL! Let me know what you thought, Like, reblog or send an ask what you thought, if you want to be added to a tag list. Anything. :3

Dean Girls:

@pandazombie69​, @luci-in-trenchcoats​, @supernatural-jackles​, @becs-bunker​, @akshi8278​, @jayankles​, @jeaniespiehs20​

~

Copying and reposting someone else’s content is plagiarism and illegal. This work is property of supernaturallyobsessedchic. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher. An electronic reference link to the original posted work may be provided for purposes of promotion or assistance of publication by the readers discretion, if proper credits are given to the author in the re-post. 1/29/2021

[k-writesthings]

Sparring (Levi x Reader)

Warnings: SFW-ish (Implied sex scene and mentions of the Devil’s Tango), cussing

Word Count: 2600 (What a satisfying number...)  

      “Jean, keep your arms up! Be ready to fight back. Eren, go for it!” I shouted over the grunts and cursing filling the training grounds. It was the tail end of our group sparring session. The sun glowed orange, hanging low in the sky. Small whispers of wind brushed across my shoulders, and a certain smell of grass and honeysuckle floated in the air. It was a gorgeous evening, and the perfect start to our monthly weekend off. All we had to do was finish this session, and then Levi and I would be free to have our alone time.

   I longed for that rare time I had Levi all to myself. Usually, he was all work, all the time. He’d even work straight through his days off if I wasn’t there to remind him to relax. But I could see his demeanor change when he knew he could save his work for another time. He was more care-free, more spontaneously romantic, and even playful sometimes. Just imagining his adorable little smile, the kind he’d only show me, made my cheeks flush and my heart start to beat faster. I’d get that and more in just a couple hours. 

   I just had to finish this session.

   “Ow! Jean! No head shots, I don’t need a concussion right now!” Eren yelled, dodging a close swing at his head from Jean, who scoffed at his complaint.

   “Oh come on, Eren! You heal from worse in a matter of hours. How about you stop being a baby and come at me, shortie!” Jean taunted back, throwing his arms wide to further antagonize the hot-headed Titan-Shifter he was fighting. We hardly ever let these two fight. They were always overly aggressive and deviated from the exercise, often throwing dirt into each other’s eyes or making an unfair pass at the other’s crotch. Usually when it got that bad, Levi stepped in. Sometimes I even got involved, especially when Eren was far too angry. Jean didn’t heal like a Titan-Shifter, so those were the times we had to get him out of there. 

   Fortunately, neither had thrown any dirty blows, yet. But that didn’t stop Levi.

   “Oi! Enough! Don’t make me come in there and kick your asses again.” He barked, prowling out of the barn where he was checking on the horses and coming to stand next to me. I smiled softly as I took in his perfect side profile. Levi looked especially handsome in the warm golden light, his inky black hair hanging in his eyes. But no matter how much I wanted to kiss him, he was very firm on his rules on public affection, especially while he was on “duty”. So I settled for reaching out and interlacing my pinky with his. He didn’t smile, but he did glance at me with a softened gaze. And that was enough for me.

   Eren and Jean were still bickering as they finished their sparring, thankfully without any foul play. As they left the field, relief washed over my body. Finally, I could be alone with my lover. Levi fully grasped my hand, ready to yank me away. But before he could, a voice stopped us.

   “Hey Captain! Corporal!” We both turned towards the voice. Connie was running towards us. He came to a skidding halt before us, smiled goofily and said, “You two should spar!” 

   A grin split across my face. As much as I wanted to get Levi alone, sparring could be fun. We haven’t done something like that since before the 104th joined the Scouts, and I wanted to see if I had even a sliver of a chance against him.

   “No.” Levi told him firmly, trying to tug me away again. 

   “C’mon! We’ve never seen either of you spar before.” Connie insisted.

   “You’ve seen us both take out Titans before. Sparring is much less exciting, trust me.” Levi was beginning to get annoyed, I could see it in his eyes.

   “Levi,” I said as he turned to face me with that steely gaze of his. “It could be fun. It’s nothing serious.”

   “Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you.” 

   “Hurt me? I’d like to see you try.” I challenged, punching him in the shoulder and shedding my long forest green military overcoat. Levi did the same and followed me to the sparring grounds. 

   The dispersing Scouts had gathered around again, pressing against the fence in preparation for the highly anticipated fight. I wasn’t entirely sure why this was such a big deal when we had fought Titans by the dozens, like Levi said, but I was willing to play along. We so rarely had dumb fun, it seemed like a great way to blow off some steam. And, it was a good excuse for Levi to touch me in public. 

   Levi stood in front of me, cravat gone, and got into his stance. “Ready?”

   I copied him, smiling slightly. “Bring it on, Captain.”

   Levi simply rolled his eyes and advanced on me, throwing a punch at my right shoulder, which I easily blocked. While his arm was extended from the punch, I used my angle to bring my left leg to land a kick to his side. He was caught off guard for a split second as the blow knocked him back, but quickly recovered. I caught his eyes as he squared up for another attack. They were sharp, dangerous even. His grey irises caught the light of the setting sun, causing them to flash threateningly. He paced slightly as he studied me. I felt like prey being stalked by a wild cat, every movement of mine charted, analyzed, and worked into how best to take me out. I must say, even I was scared of this predator. Luckily, I often found myself in his good graces, but I finally understood how Levi Ackerman looked to his enemies. And it was terrifying.

   Levi rounded on me again, getting low to the ground, seemingly to sweep my feet out from under me. I backed up quickly, and aimed another kick for his shoulders, which were at the height of my hips. I had planned on knocking him over and pinning him that way, but of course nothing is that easy with Levi.

    I realized he was faking me out just a second too late.

   He caught my leg as I kicked, using the awkwardly balanced form of a ruined kick to throw my body to the ground chest first. I hit the dirt hard. Dust filled my mouth and eyes, but when I tried to cough, nothing happened. Panic rose in my stomach as I realized no oxygen was entering my body. The wind had been knocked from my lungs when that ass threw me. And now I couldn’t breathe. Tears began to stream down my face and my desperate hands flew to my throat. The sound of dry gasps filled my ears, only worsening my alarm. I knew I wasn’t going to suffocate, but that knowledge did nothing to help my paralyzed lungs start working again. 

   A strong hand grabbed my shoulder and flipped me onto my back as I continued trying to inflate my stupid fucking lungs. Levi stared down at me with concern bright in his eyes. 

   “(Y/N), don’t be aggressive with it. Try to draw breath slowly.” He told me, the calm tone of his voice a vast difference from the look on his face. I listened, trying to mimic the feeling of taking a deep breath. Suddenly, fresh oxygen flooded into my body, and I took gulping lungfuls as Levi massaged my ribs, just where my lungs would be. “Are you alright?”

   “I’m fine, you asshole. You didn’t need to throw me that hard.” I responded, chuckling slightly to show him I wasn’t mad. “My mistake for trying to spar you.” 

   All at once, I realized the rest of the scouts were still watching us. I sat up with Levi’s help as he waved them away, telling them to go to dinner and enjoy their weekend. Jean and Connie stuck around for a bit longer, just to make sure I was okay. I told them I was and thanked them for their concern with a hug. I could tell neither had been hugged in a while when they stiffened beneath my touch before melting into the hug. Connie had tears in his eyes when I pulled away, and Jean looked rather sad as well. They didn’t say much after that and bid me and Levi a good night.

   “Why’d you do that?” Levi asked as soon as the younger men were out of sight.

   “They looked like they needed a hug.” I shrugged, clasping my hand in his and beginning our walk towards the Mess Hall.

-

    We ended up getting back to our shared quarters about an hour later. The Mess Hall was relatively empty, likely due to most soldiers returning home for the weekend. Levi and I tried to eat quickly, but ended up talking to both Hange and Erwin. Hange wanted to know where Eren was going to be for the weekend, and that earned her a sharp glare and some choice words from Levi, basically telling her not to bug the poor kid on his weekend off. She simply smiled and left in a hurry. Next, Erwin wanted to talk to Levi about something regarding reports on some of the 104th recruits. He decided to fully explain his thought process before apologizing and telling Levi that he didn’t “need to think about that until Monday”. Which only set Levi on edge when we were supposed to be enjoying our time off. I practically had to drag him back to our room so he wouldn’t go ask Erwin for further details on the reports. 

  And then he sat at his desk and looked over reports anyway.

  “Levi,” I called from our bedroom, where I was currently getting ready to sleep. “Come to bed. The reports can wait.”

   “In a second…” He murmured back, obviously not listening to anything I was saying. I huffed and rolled my eyes. Some start to our weekend off…

   Then, I got an idea. One that was sure to get him to pay attention to me. 

   Trying to hide my intentions, I walked back into the office area where Levi was sitting at his desk. He was scanning over a document that I didn’t particularly care to identify as I glided behind him. I ran my hands from the tops of his shoulders down to his chest, where I traced shapes. My mouth ended up ghosting along his jaw, leaving small kisses or the occasional nip as I followed his sharp bone structure. Under my touch, I felt him tense slightly, trying to stay focused on the work he shouldn’t be doing.

   “Levi…” I breathed into his ear once I finished my attack on his jaw. “Worry about this on Monday, I think I need to get an apology for how badly you beat me earlier.” I smirked and untangled myself from him, hoping he believed what I wanted him to. “I’ll be in bed.” I told him, sauntering around the corner once again. 

   I had only just sat on the bed when Levi walked into the room. His cheeks were flushed and he looked focused, just not on his reports. I knew my words and actions had done the trick. He threw me a predatory glance (not unlike I had seen on the sparring field earlier) and turned around to begin removing his work clothes rather slowly, allowing me a bit of a show.

   Stepping into some sweatpants, he flexed the rippling muscles on his back, no doubt to really get me in “the mood”. But I knew my objective and had to see it through without distractions, just like the good soldier I was trained to be.

   I launched my assault just before he turned around.

   “What the-” He began as I wrapped my arms around his waist, but was quickly cut off when I threw our combined weight backwards onto the bed. I quickly flipped us so I was straddling him. It goes without saying that he was pissed.

   “Hi, baby.” I purred, grappling against him as he tried to throw me off of his hips.

   “(Y/N), what the fuck?” Levi growled, his blush completely gone. I gripped his wrists where his fingertips were digging into my hips. He had stopped fighting back, and was now glowering up at me with his beautiful eyes.

   “I just wanted payback for earlier, you know, when you threw me so hard I couldn’t breathe.” I tore his hands from my hips and attempted to push them up and over his head. He didn’t let me. “Figured I would pin you and make it all better, but it seems that I’ve bruised your fragile ego.”

   He let out an annoyed sigh. “I apologized for that, and you didn’t bruise anything, shithead.” 

   “Ooh, toilet humor already? Why, Levi, you flatter me!” 

   “Get off of me, you behemoth.” 

   I giggled, stretching out on top of him and touching our noses together. “Hmm… No, I don’t think I will. If you’re just going to lay there, why shouldn’t I make myself comfy too?”

   He leaned his chin up and nipped at my lower lip. “You get up now, and I will still sleep with you tonight. Otherwise, no sex for a week.” Empty threats now, huh?

   “That’s okay, I wasn’t in the mood anyway. I was just looking to get you all horned up so I could tease you like this.” 

   Levi’s eye twitched and he finally snapped. With a growl, he threw me off of him and was back above me in a flash. 

   “Fine, you want to pin me? Go for it.” He uttered, hot breath against my neck and chest as he peppered kisses along my skin. He was trying to get me in the mood.

   But I had expected this and would not be persuaded to give in. 

   I pulled my wrists from his reach and snaked them around his torso, pulling his chest down towards me. Two could play at this game. I also started sucking and biting at his throat, quickly finding the one spot below his Adam’s apple that makes him very vocal. The soft groans began to pour out of him, and soon enough he pulled back.

   “That’s cheating, you can’t just-,” I cut him off with my lips, sitting up to connect our them and roll him onto his back from where he was straddling me. Levi grunted into the kiss, wrapping his legs around mine and holding my arms to my sides. He held me fast, and at first I thought he was being cute. But he held me roughly, like a captor. I broke the kiss and sighed, realizing my predicament. 

   I was completely incapacitated and he won again.

   “I hate that you can do this to me.” I grumbled, resting my head against his bare chest. He chuckled, which made me smile. 

   “Maybe we should spar more often.” 

   “Maybe I should learn how to tie a good knot.”

   “You are NOT tying me up.”

   “We’ll see…”

    My limbs were released and I was yanked up to his eye level. Levi gave me his best “you better fucking not” scowl and I simply pressed a kiss to his nose. 

   “Now,” My leg nestled it’s way into between his. “What was this about sleeping with me?” 

-

( Hi, so I haven’t posted anything in a week. I am so sorry. And on top of that this was completely unrequested. Uhmmmm... wow, I’m awful. I do have a request that has been sitting in my inbox that I’m going to get out before Halloween, and then a couple others I want out before Thanksgiving. I can and will do it, trust me! Anyway, I hope everyone has a great Halloween! Thank you for the wonderful support, I love you all!!)

[subtlereferencetomyinterests]

I Taste Honey but I Haven’t Seen the Hive - Chapter Eight

Ao3,  Masterpost,  C.1   C.2   C.3   C.4   C.5   C.6   C.7

Relationships: queer-platonic intruality, mentioned platonic relationships.

Second chapter of the night, babe! I’m really going for it with finishing this story!! mostly no italics as is my usual, because tumblr Sucks <3 

Warnings: cursing, brief true-crime talk, sexual innuendo, depressive episodes, crying, LOTS of h/c, mentions of past neglect (ok neglect is a really strong word it isn’t that bad, but, idk what to call it), touch-starvation, honestly though this is a ridiculously fluffy chapter guys. 

Word count: 5,618

In three weeks, Patton and Remus had gone from borderline insomnia to a sleep schedule that could’ve impressed even Logan. 

And in three weeks, neither had spent a single night alone.

The talk they’d had after their first sleepover ended up leaving more of an impact than either had realized. Maybe it should’ve been expected: they were both accustomed to saying exactly what they meant, exactly how they meant it, and any sort of vow to ‘never let go’ couldn’t be used lightly for two creatures like that. 

So, independently, they both decided to be as literal as they could about it. God, were they clingy.

But it worked better than anything. There was less aching, more talking, and if they were feeling better, the whole Mindpalace improved. Something something, the delicate ecosystem of the human mind, blah blah. 

And then it worked too well. 

Neither of them really knew what had happened, or how to feel about it (it might have been sad or strange that neither had ever had anything to compare it to, but if asked, they’d both say that’s what made it so special. They’d be right to say so, of course). It was what they had, together.

It wasn’t romantic- they’d seen romantic, knew it as well as they could, didn’t care for it. But in the end who cared about semantics? It didn’t matter, the reasons why Patton stared after his friend for a little too long, or what was making it so hard for Remus not to kiss his pal smack on the lips every time he smiled. Another thing that didn’t matter was the why in response to how they still hadn’t talked about it, but… Patton and Remus had resolved that as a problem for another time.

What mattered was that it just was.

(And another thing that mattered, a little bit, was the how it had happened, and both of them understood that perfectly well.)

Remus lounged on the floor at the foot of his bed, Patton behind and above him. Patton’s fingers were working steadily through his mess of hair, while the pair half-watched TV. They didn’t agree on most shows, and neither of them were especially crazy about arguing, which meant it was twenty minutes of roundabout conversation until they stumbled across something they could mutually zone out to. Whatever. The system worked.

Remus typically preoccupied himself with drawing, painting, or carving some material into something or other (said something-or-other was almost always a knife or a dildo. Occasionally, it was both). 

Patton seemed to favor being distracted by Remus’ hair, though it wasn’t clear why. Remus hadn’t asked; it felt nice, and he was surprised that anyone would actually want to thread their fingers through those oily strings, so why question a good thing? 

Actually, a better question was why not. The thought had stuck in his mind, and he had nothing better to do- art block and all- so. Remus tossed his sketchbook to the side and twisted up to look at Patton.

“Why do you do that?”

Patton glanced down at him. “Do what?”

Remus reached up, prying Patton’s hands out of his hair and holding them up like evidence. Patton blinked at them, and okay, cute- but he looked genuinely surprised by the question. 

“Oh, playing with your hair? I mean, there’s no real reason, I guess it’s just mindless. Something to fidget with, y’know? It’s always all tangled up, too, so it’s like a little puzzle- a puzzle I probably won’t solve all the way ever, but that’s most puzzles with me to be honest,” he smiled brightly, creasing all his laugh lines just right. “Also, um, it feels nice that I get to stay touching you, even if it’s just something small,” he shrugged, sort of sheepishly. “Is that weird?”

But Remus was beaming up at him, definitely looking all sorts of stupid for it, and definitely not caring. He dropped Patton’s hands, letting them find their way back into his coils and matts of hair. 

“You’re asking the wrong guy, Sugar Cookie, but you can keep messing with my hair all you want. It probably is weird, in that case, because I like that you have your hands on me so much-” Jesus Christ it was so hard not to make a sex joke, Remus had to stifle several from breaking his train of thought. Ugh, the things he did for this man. “-And if I like something, it’s 100% freaky!”

Patton just laughed, his nose scrunching up while he ruffled Remus’ hair. 

“That’s- that’s good to know,” an index finger coiled around silver strands, and Patton’s eyes sparkled in the most literal sense, “Hey, Remus?”

Remus let his head rest on the side’s thigh, humming attentively. 

“When you say I can mess with it…”

He looked up with a delightful anticipation, grinning before Patton had even finished his sentence. 

“Can I braid your hair?” The question accompanied by a faint tug at Remus’ scalp, and the feeling of several tangles coming undone, “I’m pretty good at it. Virgil used to let me do his- not so much anymore, but, um. Anyway, yours would be long enough- or maybe longer, if I got these knots out,” he smiled, kindly, “But I know you like having it knotty, so it’s okay if you don’t want me to.”

Remus thought it over, because yeah, he was very proud of his rat’s nest. Besides, he was sure that even if it got straightened out, it’d still be just as greasy as ever- ohh, but that could be a look all on its own, couldn’t it? Maybe he could even weave some garbage into the plait! 

“Sure!” Remus assented, “The rest of me’s naughty enough to make up for the hairdo, so have at ‘er.”

Patton snorted at the pun, obviously excited to get started. When he ushered Remus to turn around, his hands easily undoing clumps of hair with surprising focus, humming to himself all the while, Remus was absolutely certain he’d made the right choice.

It was done in an hour- Patton was slow and careful about every movement. Remus didn’t really mind, though he’d try to assure Patton that it was fine to do it in a hurry, that he wasn’t so sensitive. (Patton didn’t, obviously, ignoring Remus’ comments about how it didn’t even matter because they weren’t real, and pain was a construct. Patton was stubbornly gentle, to the point that Remus couldn’t be annoyed by it. He might even say it was sweet, if he was feeling particularly sappy.)

It had also taken such time because of the decorations Patton had woven into his hair, which he insisted would be surprises. So Remus was bouncing with excitement all the way to the mirror- cuz even though he was sure it wouldn’t be anything like the live bugs, weeds, and dead flowers that he’d had in mind to thread in there himself, he knew it’d at least be pretty. Pretty wasn’t really his thing, sure, but Patton’s brand of pretty? It had grown on him.

The mirror in Remus’ room was chipped, slick with grime, and filled with silhouettes that vanished as soon as you turned around, but it worked just fine. Remus hauled himself over to it, peered in, and okay, he definitely didn’t mind a little bit of pretty.

“You weren’t fucking around when you said you were good at this, Morey!”

In their reflections, Remus saw Patton smile, going a bit pink around the ears. He glanced back to himself, eyes trailing appreciatively down the shoulder-length braid of dark, greasy hair. His grey streak wasn’t twisted in with the rest of the locks, instead it had been left out in front, springy and curly and giving the whole look a messier vibe. The braid itself seemed inky-slick, shot through with glittering hair clips and pins. At first, they looked like plain plastic jewels, but with closer inspection the shapes of tiny beetles, bugs, and moths were unmistakable. They were gorgeous, and probably a better call than putting actual live bugs in his hair; he was less likely to end up eating the sparkly clips, at any rate.

But if all that wasn’t enough, then there were the ribbons. Whip-thin and several in number, they sparkled with enough course glitter to impress a Las Vegas body paint artist. Some were a pukey neon green, and the rest a light, bright-

“Blue?”

Patton met Remus’ eyes, through the mirror again, and the pink slowly traveled from his ears down to his face. He shrugged, grazing the blue-and-green bow where the braid was tied off with the tips of his fingers. 

“I guess I got a little carried away,” he smiled lightly, “I thought it looked nice, with the green.”

Remus looked away from the glass, “You’re not wrong about that,” he muttered.

Patton shrugged, not quite making his eyes. 

“You can take those ones out, if you want to.”

That- the way Patton went flustered and shy and he’d put his colors on Remus- it gave the Duke a very strong urge to do something. The urge pulled at his chest, feeling like cracked ribs in the best way, and it really wasn’t fucking around when it wrapped around his heart and squeezed so tight it felt like it was forcing all the blood right out of him. 

Remus was used to impulses, and the powerful, mind-halting swells of emotion, but this was new and fun and it had jumped out of nowhere even for him. He was staring at Patton, and he had the urge to do something. He would’ve done it, too, if only he knew what the fuck it was that he wanted. 

It had to do with Patton. He should start there, probably.

“I’m gonna keep them in, duh,” Remus replied, finally, and his voice was way louder than it needed to be, “Wouldn’t wanna fuck up the look.” 

Patton glanced at him, smiling self-consciously, and his hand lowered from Remus’ hair to rest on his shoulder. For a moment Remus felt blind, vision white-out and trouble breathing, from whatever the fuck he was feeling, and he just didn’t know what to do.

Then Patton laughed, his ocean eyes squinted, and the burning impulse plummeted to an ache. A giddy, unfamiliar kind of ache. A manageable ache. 

Remus resolved to forget it. He had lots of instincts, and urges, and God knew that not even half of them made sense. It had left, that was what mattered, and he could enjoy the rest of his day with his friend.

He’d never been the type to worry, anyway.

There were days that Patton just… couldn’t make it out of bed. He tried, he really did, but he could only go for so long before it all started crumbling. He’d wake up, and something would just feel wrong, and he’d know that it was a doomed day, but he still made the stubborn effort to save it. Because each time he thought, maybe he’d beat it, maybe he’d make the best of it- and sometimes he did, but most of the time he made it as far as breakfast, and then he was right back in his room by noon to let the depressive episode take over.

So yeah. It was one of Those Days. 

Patton laid in bed, propped up on pillows and stuffed animals with his unfocused eyes staring just above the television. Bad days had been getting rare, and naively, Patton had thought that meant it was over for good. When he woke up that morning, Remus barely stirring beside him, the empty feeling inside was almost ignorable. 

He’d stayed above it for all of two-and-a-half hours before retreating to his room again, this time on his own.

Patton was always alone when he got in one of his moods, and he knew it was better that way. He was no fun at all, just a sad sack of blah, and he knew just how intolerable he ended up being. He couldn’t even tolerate himself.

So each time Patton would tell the other sides that he needed some space alone, and of course they respected that. Roman always hugged him before he left. Virgil checked on him every now and then. Logan, without fail, sent him extra plushies (and sweet snacks, however much he disapproved of unhealthy eating, because he knew how much sugar cheered Patton up). It didn’t fix the ache, but it helped, knowing that people were worried about him. 

But, back to that particular day; the day that left Patton huddled up at the head of his bed with blank, glazed-over eyes; the first day of its kind since Remus had been staying with him. 

It had gotten… harder, somehow. The fact that it had been gone for so long, and he’d been so optimistic, but now it was all back… 

Patton buried his face in the soft fabric of a teddy bear, shaking and crying and feeling so, so, cold.

It went on for a few horrible, horrible minutes, and then there were noises that definitely weren’t sobs. Down the hall; the slamming of a door, followed by distant muttering, and then excited footsteps. Heavy, clunky footsteps. Sounds that brought back acute deja vu, and had Patton glancing up just in time to realize what was about to happen. 

His door swung open, and Remus was grinning at him from the entrance. Patton struggled to put on a smile in time, scrubbing frantically at his eyes. 

“Hey! It’s, like, two o’clock, are you ready?”

Patton blinked up at him, partially in confusion, partially to try and stop the flow of tears. “Ready…?” 

Remus’ face fell a little, and he came forwards into the room. 

“Yeah…” Remus shut the door behind him- with less force than usual- and sat cross-legged on the foot of the bed. He stared intently at Patton, frown deepening all the while, pupils flitting around as he seemed to take in every detail of his friend’s condition. Patton wanted to squirm. “We were gonna- are you okay?” 

He stared dumbly at Remus for a second more, and then it clicked: they had plans today. He could barely remember what they were supposed to do- they’d been talking so quick, so excited, so happy- but Patton was pretty sure it had to do with a new creation of Remus’. 

Which was… something he definitely, definitely didn’t have the energy for. 

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry,” Patton sat up straight, trying desperately to stop trembling, “I completely forgot, I just- um- I don’t know if I can make it today.”

That sounded bad, didn’t it? Wouldn’t that be the icing on top of the cake, if he hurt Remus’ feelings just because he was wallowing for basically no reason. It probably wouldn’t even be that bad if he sucked it up and went along with it anyway- except Janus kept insisting how bad self-sacrifice was, but- what else was he supposed to do!?

“Oh, it’s okay,” Remus said, not sounding hurt at all. “I’d be more pissed if I thought you were just bailing, and I know you don’t do that, Pat. Plus, you’re obviously upset, so don’t worry about it.”

  Patton glanced up to find him still staring, somehow more intense than before, and much closer than before. He looked- he looked worried. Not upset. Worried. 

“Oh,” Patton looked away again, unable to stand the scrutiny, “Okay.” 

A hand slipped into his, prying open his clenched fist, and he had to stifle a gasp at the touch. Temperature shock, that was the best word for it. Patton shivered. 

“Can I help you?”

Patton’s eyes went wide at the sweet sincerity in Remus’ voice, the way he said it as plainly and openly as he’d say anything else. Even if it wasn’t a big deal, really, with Patton’s emotions in the state that they were, while he was in his room of all places, anything could send him breaking down again.

“I- I don’t, um-” he blinked furiously, had done that a lot since Remus found him; it was beginning to make him feel dizzy. “Nothing’s really wrong…” 

Remus squeezed his hand. 

“Well, what isn’t really wrong?” 

“What?”

“You said nothing’s ‘really’ wrong, so, what’s wrong-but-not-really?”

Patton tipped his head to the side, for a moment more confused than he was aching. “How do you mean?”

But Remus just rolled his eyes- not unkindly- and shrugged. 

“So, you don’t know why you’re all… sad,” the emphasis made Patton wince, “But I figure that being sad at all usually makes other things wrong, too, and I can help with those things! For example-” he pitched forwards suddenly, ruby-reds wide and searching. He sniffed at Patton (probably not for any kind of actual inspection, but it made him laugh, and judging from Remus’ proud little smirk that had been on purpose.) “You had anything to eat? Or, uh, water? Those are supposed to be important.”

Oh, right. That. 

Patton leaned away, pulling his hand out of Remus’ grasp as he flushed abashedly. But he didn’t- well, he wasn’t going to lie to Remus.

“I guess I haven’t, no,” he tried to laugh it off- this didn’t have to be a thing, it didn’t have to be serious, if he kept laughing. If he got Remus to laugh.

But Remus was already standing, and that brought up another very effective solution; if Patton was being depressing, maybe he would just get sick of it and go. 

“Okay, we’ll start there! Wait here, I’ll be back in- ten minutes? Sure, that’s how long it takes to make food,” Remus was muttering half to himself, but it sure as heck didn’t sound like leaving.

“Oh, you don’t have to get me anything!” Patton insisted, because if Remus wasn’t escaping yet, then he wasn’t going to mooch off of his generosity. “Thanks for the reminder, I’ll- I’ll make sure to grab something soon.”

Remus stopped by the door, tipped his head from one side to the other, pretending to think it over.

“Hm. Nah.”

Patton tried to stand, and found that he was somehow too weak for even that much.

“Remus, please, I- I can’t even eat the same stuff as you, anyway! Don’t go through all that trouble for little old me,” he was edging on frantic, and he didn’t know why he was fighting so hard against receiving needed help, but it probably had something to do with Catholicism. 

Remus looked completely bewildered- a funny look, for him- and said:

“I mean, I wasn’t about to feed you hygiene products, or ceramic, or whatever. I know that I eat weird shit, Pat, that’s kind of the point- but I still know how to make a sandwich? And I know how to hold a cup under the sink so that water goes in it?” 

His voice took on a gently mocking tone. Patton glanced away, sheepish, and couldn’t find a response to that beyond a short nod.

Which was all Remus needed as the go-ahead, darting out of the room and down the stairs before Patton could argue any further. 

Patton stared after him, listened to him bustling around downstairs, and tried to feel comforted. He fell back against his pillows, breathing slow and concentrated. He was still shaking, with his previous exhaustion coming back full force. Some of the light-headedness, certainly, had to be due to the lack of eating, but he was unfortunately sure that it wasn’t even the half of it.

Patton was conflicted: He had to tell Remus that he was okay, as soon as he returned. Say thanks for the food, that it had helped, and they could spend time together tomorrow, Patton would promise. Get Remus away before it got bad, before the dam he’d built so carefully behind his eyes fell and the blue of them spilled out for hours. 

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t lie about his feelings- he knew it was bad for him, and he couldn’t keep doing it, not to someone’s face. Not somebody he cared about so much.

He wanted to let Remus stay, beg him to stay if he had to, just so he didn’t have to dig up all his long-buried emotions on his own. He wanted to pull him in and beg for help, even though he knew nothing had managed to help him before, and it was so futile. 

When the door opened some ten minutes later, Patton didn’t sit up. He didn’t even look up, scared he’d cry if he so much as moved his eyes in his own skull. 

“Hey.”

The sound of the door shutting, followed by those heavy footsteps. A soft thunk, presumably the plate of food being placed on his bedside table. Then the mattress dipped beside him, springs creaking. 

“Hey,” Remus said again, “Look at me.”

Patton rolled his head tentatively to the side. Remus was sitting with him, looking at him, his expression twisted up and solemn in all the worst ways. Patton felt the dam begin to crumble. 

“I’m sorry,” he whimpered, “I know, I know that I’m no fun when I’m like this, and we were supposed to have fun today, and I just can’t do it. I can’t, I’m so sorry. I promise I’ll make it up to you tomorrow, but if you stay here when I’m-” he broke, clamping a hand around his mouth as a sob wracked his body.. “When I’m like this, I’m just gonna ruin your day more.”

That sad look, the one that had no place being in Remus’ expression, sharpened and widened until he looked almost angry. He crawled over to Patton, prying the side’s hand away from his face and cupping his cheek, gently, all the while that scowl was in place. 

“Do you want me to go?”

Patton could barely speak, knowing that he’d just blubber and blubber, but Remus was holding him up by the shoulders and peering down at him so patiently, so carefully.

“I- I-”

“Do you want to be alone?”

He couldn’t- he couldn’t keep lying.

Patton sucked in a breath.

“No.”

Remus grinned at him proudly, pulling back until he was kneeling. He spread his arms out, an offering that Patton had become intimately familiar with. Patton pulled himself up, shaking, incredulous despite the familiarity of the situation.

“Then you don’t have to be.”

And Patton pitched forward, right into Remus’ arms, clutching and crying and trembling like a leaf.

Distantly, he knew that he was still babbling apologies. Insisting that the Duke could leave as soon as he wanted, that Patton felt this way so often and he knew he couldn’t possibly expect comfort every time, a million other sentences that ran over and into each other which only seemed to make Remus clutch him tighter. 

“It’s okay,” Remus told him.

“It’s- It’s not, I don’t even have a- a reason to be so-” a hiccup, “- upset. It’s not like last time, when you found me- I don’t even have a bad excuse, I’m just- just-”

“Shut the fuck up,” somehow, even that sounded caring. “Somebody as Hello Kitty Wholesome as you’s got no business saying such bad shit about himself.”

Patton tried to apologize again. 

“Easy, Sugar, I’ve got you.”

Patton shuddered.

“When it gets bad like this, just tell me, alright?” Remus’ hands traced up and down his spine, across his shoulder blades, down his sides, warm and full and adoring. The smile in his voice was audible, “I’m gonna take care of you.”

And when Patton heard that, it was like a broken bone being set. Not fully mended, but held together enough that it could begin to heal the right way, of its own hard work, and come back twice as strong still. Remus held him so strong and it felt like a cast. 

Patton’s breakdowns were blurred memories at best, but he couldn’t have gotten that promise out of his head even if he wanted to. 

It was an achingly uneventful afternoon. Everything in the Mindpalace felt just a little out of focus, a little gray, and nothing much was going to change that except the day ending. Plain and simple, Thomas was Out Of It- and so, of course, were his sides.

On the whole it wasn’t a big deal, but it did make it downright impossible to finish any substantial work beyond menial, autopilot tasks. And creativity? Particularly for Remus, who more-or-less needed his human at full attention in order to have any creative power, it was totally hopeless. 

He wasn’t the kind of guy to work on half-power, to put it mildly. 

So, what did Remus do, when he had even less of an outlet than usual? It shouldn’t surprise you that the answer is literally anything, if it got people to pay attention to him and make him feel real again (which he wasn’t, actually, but let’s leave the semantics to Logan). What that usually amounted to- these days, at least- was talking, and talking, and more talking, and eventually somebody would probably react to something he said. Ideally. 

So on that particular gray-day, Remus sprawled himself out on the couch and waited for the first person who came by to trap in a very one-sided conversation. 

Said first person was Patton, as it happened, which was just Remus’ luck. He didn’t bother hiding how excited he was about it; Patton had always been his favorite target- of course, it was for a very, very different reason nowadays. 

Patton sat down with him as soon as he was waved over, propping a coloring book open on his knee and smiling warmly. His unoccupied hand went to wind through Remus’ hair, though, to make it abundantly obvious that despite his distraction he wasn’t ignoring the other.

Remus grinned at him, and started rambling immediately. 

And he- well, he wouldn’t really call it talking to himself, because he didn’t have a fucking clue what he was saying. But he wasn’t talking to Patton either, because that kinda defeats the purpose of a one-sided conversation. 

Which he didn’t mind. He wasn’t even listening to himself, he just needed to talk, and Patton wasn’t complaining. Remus was probably saying something unsavory, and still, there wasn’t any kind of flinching or interrupting. Patton even mhm’d and yeah’d every now and then, which was an entirely unnecessary reassurance. But Remus thought it was adorably considerate, and briefly entertained the idea of replacing that sweet little coloring book in Patton’s lap with his own self, to get some proper attention. 

(He would have, too, if he wasn’t so sure that he’d blurt out something very lewd in his stream-of-consciousness kind of mood, with a position like that, and he wasn’t sure if Patton could handle it at the moment. Morality always got a little out of whack on gray-days, too, so- loathe as Remus was to say it- better safe than sorry). 

Remus fell into the rhythm of it for, what, twenty minutes? He was bad with time, but- all he knew was he was thinking about Albert Fish, and talking about an entirely different serial killer out loud (Gacy? Bundy? It was definitely someone infamous), when the hand in his hair suddenly stilled. Patton wasn’t looking at him, either.

Remus glanced around, still talking, to find Logan standing in the kitchen doorway, staring expectantly at Patton. 

“I need you to accompany me outside for a moment. There’s something important that we-”

Patton cut him off with a wave, “Hang on for a second, Teach.” 

Logan obliged, looking bemused, and Patton turned his attention back to the still-tangenting Remus. Who was totally checked out, for the record. 

“Hey,” Patton rested a hand on his shoulder, smiling warmly, “Pause?”

And Remus, surprised, did as asked. He didn’t care about what was going on around him, but he liked that smile, and the eyes focused in on him, so he sat up properly and tried to be quiet. Especially considering those were the first actual words Patton had said to him since he’d sat down. 

“I’m gonna go see what they need real quick,” Patton went on, “I’ll be back in a few minutes, and you can finish telling me about Dennis Rader then-” So that was who! “Kay?” 

Remus stared mutely at him for an embarrassing number of seconds. He eventually managed a short nod, some vague utterances of yeah, sure, go ahead, before Patton was out the door with Logan, and he was left reeling on the couch. 

Remus felt a little bit like worms had eaten holes in his brain like swiss cheese, leaving him airy-headed and dizzy. All his organs felt wormy, in fact- squirming and sick and excited about something that really shouldn’t have been a big deal- but! It was!!!

Cuz Patton had been listening? Remus wasn’t even listening! He was probably barely coherent, and he’d been at it for twenty fucking minutes, and- and-

God! He just wanted to grab that stupid adorable head of Patton’s and! He didn’t even know! Do Something, something disgusting in the nice way, something deplorably PG and lovey-dovey and- Ugh! 

Remus buried his face in his hands and groaned. He felt like a goddamn schoolgirl- and not the hentai kind, for a change, but the hopelessly infatuated, cutesy type. Feelings that were gushy, giddy, affectionately bloody. 

It was the straw that broke the camel's spine. Urges and instincts and wants that Remus hadn’t been able to name coalesced into a neon sign in his mind, flaring the answer like it’d been obvious the whole time:

Was it a crush? Remus didn’t know a better word for it, even if it wasn’t- he just knew that he was pining, and for somebody he was happy to call his friend either way. And, huh. Weird. He didn’t know he could do that. 

“I’m back, I’m back!” Patton came scrambling back into the room, jolting Remus out of his thoughts, “Sorry about that, it was- well, it’s not a big deal, something happened with The Memories and- it’s fine now- anyway, what were you saying?”

He was chattering fast, even by Remus’ Standards, an apologetic smile on his face as he sat down and settled all his attention on the Duke. 

Remus said: “It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” and wondered if he’d always been that shrill? Or was he being too quiet? What did his voice sound like again?? “I, uh, I don’t remember what I was talking about.”

Patton frowned at him, and looked about ready to apologize again, and he couldn’t very well have that. So, he babbled:

“Right, it was Rader? Um. Yeah,” but that was so far out of his mind by that point, and how did people ever talk while saying things and thinking other things! “Not much to say, ya know. Killed some people, got arrested, the usual.”

“Since when don’t you give me the graphic details?” Patton complained, “That’s your favorite part!” 

“I think I’ll spare you the nightmares this time, Morey! It’s, uhm, it’s your turn to talk.” 

“Oh, hush,” and Patton laughed, shooting Remus an encouraging, coaxing smile that made him just want to debone himself. “Those serial killer stories you like so much aren’t the nightmare fuel they used to be. You know why?”

Remus felt like the inside of his skin was full of spikes. Not in a bad way. 

“...Why?” 

“Because,” Patton said, like he was all too eager to explain himself, “I can’t really be scared of them when the scariest thing is what’s in bed with me.”

Remus flushed. Like, actually-  heat crawled across his face and over his ears, and he honestly had no clue the last time something or someone had made him blush. But Patton, acknowledging his scare-factor while somehow making it obvious he felt only safe with him, was apparently what ticked that box. 

“Right,” chirped Remus, “That’s- me!”

“Of course it is, Silly,” Patton bumped their shoulders together, smiling like he had no idea what he was doing- and to be honest, he probably didn’t.

Remus drank in the contact, happily using it as an excuse to wrap his arms around Patton and pull him closer. He buried his face in Patton’s shoulder, because as far as his impulses told him, he should either get the fuck away A.S.A.P. or drag Patton in as close as possible and not let go. Obviously, Remus had a preference. 

“You- uh- I was being serious though,” ugh, God, stuttering was so goddamn annoying- how did Virgil cope? “You should talk. I’m- I’m sorta overwhelmed.”

That was the truth, or part of it. Admitting it out loud at least managed to take some of the power out of it.

Patton immediately cooed at him- it should have been annoying; it wasn’t- and wrapped him up in his arms properly, muttering little of courses and do you need anything?s. Remus melted into him, finally claiming that spot in his lap (and any jokes his mind might have had about that were long gone, by then), shaking his head and glowing under the attention. 

Of course Patton was happy- after making sure that Remus was alright- to do some of the talking. He talked about his day, what he wanted to do later, or tomorrow, and of cute things that he’d seen, and a hundred other inconsequential Patton-isms. 

Remus was unused to sitting and listening, but with him… it wasn’t as bad as the Duke remembered it being. 

Oh, he was so fucking fucked. 

Chapter Nine

Taglist: @shrimp-crockpot @donnieluvsthings @glitter-skeleton-uwu @intruxiety @gayformlessblob @did-he-just-hiss-at-me @thefivecalls

[ohwereusingourmadeupnames]

True Pleasure

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark (Starker) Rating: Mature (M)  Notes: I saw this post by @ironandspider and couldn’t help but take a whack at it. I was immediately inspired.  Summary: 

“Being vulnerable is the the only way to allow your heart true pleasure.” 

They’d been dating for a few weeks the first time Peter was startled awake by Tony’s thrashing next to him. His heart slammed against his chest for a moment, Peter willing his eyes to adjust to the darkness around him. It didn’t occur to him that Tony was having a nightmare until he started to make little whimpering noises. Sucking in a breath, Peter scotched a little closer and wrapped an arm tightly around Tony’s middle.

He used a little more of his strength than he usually allowed himself to ground Tony to the bed – his other hand ran along the top of Tony’s head, his fingers brushing the soft locks off of his forehead.. Keeping his voice level, he spoke up. “Tony – baby, wake up. You’re having a nightmare.” Peter repeated that same sentence a couple of times before Tony gasped awake, his eyes widening for a moment – the look in them wild. Recognition settled over him after a few dozen heartbeats, his rigid body relaxing a little bit.

“Pete?” Tony questioned, his voice small, the tone the slightest bit broken. Peter could feel the thump of his heart against the inside of his arm – it felt like a hummingbird trying desperately to get out of a cage. His hand was shaky when he reached up to place it on Peter’s cheek.

Leaning into the touch, wanting to do whatever he could to provide Tony with a little bit of comfort, Peter nodded, a soft smile sliding across his lips. “Yup, Peter Parker at your service. Neighborhood Spider-Man, boy genius, snuggle bug extraordinaire.” He wiggled his eyebrows while he spoke, his lame attempt to break the tension in the air exactly that – lame.

It seemed to work, though – Tony broke out in a laugh, the sound genuine and deep, the rumble familiar now that Peter took the time to pay attention. Nuzzling further into the hand on his cheek, Peter held Tony tightly, the older man slowly coming out of the hazy dream state. Fingers turning his face told him Tony was feeling a bit better, the lips on his a little on the desperate side. Peter sunk into the kisses and gave back as good as he got until Tony tired himself out. There was heat pooling in the center of his belly, but sleep called to him more.

He kept Tony in his arms, the man pressed tightly to his chest – Peter stayed awake and watched him until he fell asleep. His eyes were sleep heavy, but it felt important to make sure Tony didn’t fall back into that same dream before he let himself rest. Tony held all of his feelings in, it wasn’t all that surprising, the night finding them and bringing them to the forefront. The least Peter could do was be there and have warm arms to tumble into.

Before falling asleep, Peter pressed a soft kiss to the back of Tony’s neck, his nose burying itself in the downy hair there. He drifted off to the sweet smell of oranges and smoky goodness.

The next morning, Peter woke up to an empty bed. Frowning, he rolled over and got himself into a sitting position and off the warm mattress. He slipped on his boxer briefs from the night before and the black button down he took off of Tony, then slipped out of the room. Most mornings, they lounged in bed and mumbled to each other about the day, how they were going to spend it – when they’d see each other next. Peter figured Tony was still smarting from the night before, so he stumbled into the kitchen cautiously.

Tony was slumped at the small table by the window in his kitchen, a full cup of coffee still sitting in front of him. Checking the pot, Peter figured it had to be a couple hours old. He made quick work of getting rid of the cold stuff and putting a new pot on. The kitchen started to smell like fresh brew in the matter of minutes – his mouth watered at the thought of the stiff caffeinated beverage hitting the back of his throat. Leaving Tony’s black, Peter fixed his with a splash of milk and a sugar cube.

He replaced Tony’s mug without much fanfare, the older man relinquishing his grip without an ounce of fight or resistance. The mug went into the sink, then Peter took his first blissful sip of the elixir of the god’s, a sigh leaving his lips.

“Don’t you have class this morning?” Tony asked, his voice gruff from disuse and lack of sleep. He finally looked up from the place in the distance he’d been staring into. Their gazes locked – Tony’s normal happiness to see him clouded by whatever was occupying his mind. Peter tried not to take it personal, his brain more than aware of what it was like to wake up in a panic.

Shrugging his shoulders, Peter took another sip of his coffee – if he let himself formulate an answer, he might not sprout off and worsen the situation. “Yup – Biochem with Shrev.” Lifting up his coffee cup in salute, Peter walked out of the kitchen and back into the bedroom. He turned on the shower and drank the rest of his morning brew leaning against the counter, enjoying the way the hot water steamed up the bathroom.

By the time he climbed out of the shower, Tony was back in the bedroom. He felt the older man’s eyes roam over him as he walked into the room. Peter kept a hand on the knot of his towel as he rummaged through his backpack to pull out the spare clothes he kept there. Giving Tony a soft smile over his shoulder, Peter went back into the bathroom to finish getting ready. The guilty pleasure of using the man’s aftershave kept him from being bogged down by Tony’s edginess.

Peter shouldered his bag and took a look around the room to make sure he didn’t miss anything in his new morning routine around the Stark penthouse. Satisfied, Peter walked up to Tony, who’d been leaned against the doorframe of the bathroom since he came out and pulled him into a hug – strong arms wrapped around him, drawing him close. “I’ll see you in the lab later.” With a chaste kiss to the older man’s forehead, Peter turned and walked out.

It felt weird, leaving with things hanging in the air like that – but Peter refused to let Tony’s bad dream the night before be something that came between them. He understood not liking to be vulnerable – his nights were frequently haunted by dreams that chased him and didn’t relent. It was one-part embarrassing and one-part frightening – being so bogged down in something that only waking up could cure. So, he endured it, the way he felt for Tony trumped all of the weirdness that coursed over him throughout the rest of the day.

Walking into the lab later, Peter was enveloped in a tight hug – Tony obviously not giving a damn about the other people idling around. Tony tucked his face into Peter’s neck and sighed, his breath warm against his sensitive skin. “Missed you,” he mumbled, the tone of his voice soft, the words as much of an apology as the current situation called for.

“Me too, Tones,” Peter replied, his arms wrapping around Tony’s hips. They shared a quick kiss, then separated. The rest of the day was spent sharing shy smiles across the table and brushing hands while passing each other things just because they could. It cemented what he thought earlier that day – this, his thing with Tony, it meant more – the world, maybe.

----

A couple months later, Peter jumped awake to the sound of Tony’s shout. It must have been enough to wake the older man up, too. His “shit” harsh, forced out of his chest like it was punched right out of his gut. Turning over, Peter was surprised to see Tony looking right at him. “Oh, Pete. Thank fuck,” Tony gasped out, his sweat soaked hands reaching out, the few inches between them obviously feeling like billions of miles away.

Peter went willingly, his sleep clogged mind more than willing to cling to the warmth of Tony’s body. “It’s okay, Tones. I’m right here,” Peter mumbled, his voice scratchy – the entirety of him trying its best to cling to sleep. He laid flat against the mattress and pulled Tony toward him, his arm pulling him into his side so there was no space left between them. Tony placed his head on Peter’s chest, the hairs of his goatee making the skin tickle slightly.

Tony pressed a kiss to Peter’s pec, his lips trembling slightly. “Don’t let go for a while, okay?” Tony whispered, his head tilting up to look at Peter.

Their eyes caught and even through the fog of sleep, Peter understood what was happening. Tony was putting a foot on the throat of his vulnerability – he was opening the door for Peter to take him from the darkness and hold him close until they were out of it. Beaming, Peter leaned down to press a kiss to Tony’s sleep mused hair. “You’re safe with me, baby.” Peter tightened his arms – he needed the closeness in that moment, too.

Fingers skimming over Tony’s skin lightly, Peter started to talk, his voice low – the intention to be soothing. “Do you remember that afternoon a couple of months ago that I was running late, so you came and picked me up from campus? I can still remember walking out to see you leaning on the Audi like you owned the place. When I close my eyes, the way you looked in that moment is something that pops into my head first thing. You looked like you were at peace.”

Somewhere in the space of his little soliloquy, Tony drifted off – his breath evening out against Peter’s chest. Smiling, he pressed another kiss into Tony’s hair and relaxed into the pillow beneath him. He kept his grip tight, the thought of space between them too much, even in his exhausted state. Tony trusted him – it was important for him to continue to prove he deserved it.

Waking up with the steady weight of Tony against his chest made him grin – now this was the way he wanted to wake up for all the days to come. He luxuriated in the feeling of having Tony pressed against him this way for a while – his brain steadily coming into a more wakeful state as the minutes passed. Tony started to stir right around the time Peter finally felt like he could keep his eyes open and attempt to be a functioning person for the rest of the day.

The feeling of Tony rolling on top of him made him gasp, the shift of the older man’s weight from his side to his center making him press up a little. “Morning,” Tony said with clarity, his eyes not nearly as hollow as they usually were after a night where the dreams wouldn’t let him go. Gripping Tony’s hips, Peter let his fingertips stray over the naked skin there.

“Morning, Tones,” Peter replied, his lips quirked in a sleepy grin. They were quickly occupied a moment later – Tony kissed him with determination, the energy in the press of his lips a lot for so shortly after waking up, but beautiful, nonetheless. Peter leaned into it easily – he was just happy that Tony wasn’t bogged down by the things in his head that he couldn’t escape.

A while later, Peter got out of the shower to find a coffee cup on the counter, the smell of it making his mouth water. His cheeks were a little sore from all the smiling he’d been doing throughout the morning and he’d only been awake for 45 minutes or so. He ran a towel through his wet hair while sucking down some of the coffee in his mug, the caffeine doing wonders for his sleepiness.

Tony was in the kitchen when he walked out with his backpack – the older man flashing him a soft smile over his shoulder. “Do you have time for breakfast?” Tony asked, his eyebrows quirked in typical Tony Stark fashion.

Flashing a glance over at the clock on the fancy stove, Peter shook his head – “I have to get to class. Want to meet for lunch instead?” He placed his backpack on the island, Peter wanting his hands to be free to pull Tony to him. The older man came willingly, his arms settling around Peter’s neck without a second thought.

“Sounds good – I’ll order Thai, or something.” Tony leaned in until their foreheads were pressed together, his breath ghosting Peter’s lips. “I love you,” he whispered after a while, his nose brushing against Peter’s. “I love you.”

Peter let the word wash over him, hearing them for the first time made him want to melt into a puddle of goo. Beaming, he pulled back a little, both hands cupping Tony’s cheeks. “I love you too. So much.” There wasn’t any hesitation, both men leaned in until their lips were connected – the touch like a current, electricity and energy flowing so easily between them.

It would have been so easy to get caught up in the dizzying tension in the room, but Peter knew they both had shit to do, so he stepped away with a final brush of their lips. “I’ll see you in a little while.” Grabbing his bag, he kept his body turned towards Tony as he walked out, eyes desperate to be on him until he wasn’t in sight any longer.

Luckily, Peter was nearing the end of his semester, so both classes standing in the way of lunch with Tony were jam packed full of things he needed to pay attention to. The time flew by – before he knew it, he was walking into the penthouse to the sight of Tony in one of his three-piece suits, the vest unbuttoned, and the tie loosened. That look never ceased to drive Peter crazy – the older man well aware of that fact.

Hearing him, Tony turned around, his face breaking into a smile. “Pete – just in time. Food is on the coffee table in the living room.” Tony narrowed the space between them and gripped Peter’s hand, their fingers tangling easily. “I got a couple extra orders of that shrimp you like.”

Peter ate his weight in Thai food and found himself slumped against the back of the couch. Tony was leaning heavily into him, his neck rolling from side to side. “Here,” Peter said, turning a little bit on the couch until Tony was sitting between his legs. “Lean back a little, I’ll get that knot in your shoulder.” Peter recognized the gesture – Tony got bunched up when he was stressed. The last time it happened, his neck and upper back were useless for a handful of days.

Instead of waiting for it to get worse, Peter dug into the group of muscles spanning across his upper back and shoulders. Tony undid his tie and the first button on his shirt, the man tilting his head a little further towards his right shoulder, exposing more skin as he did. “Your hands feel amazing,” he mumbled after a few minutes of Peter kneading muscle and skin. “So good, Pete.”

Preening at the compliment, Peter doubled down, his hands now eager to make Tony feel good, not just better. By the time he felt Tony’s shoulder slump with the release of the knot holding his muscle bellies captive, Tony was letting out little sounds of contentment, his eyes closed and head lolling loosely against Peter’s shoulder. He let his lips trail up Tony’s trap and across the side of his neck – his skin warm from the way Peter’s hands worked him over. “Okay?” he asked when he got to Tony’s ear, his words spoken right against the shell of it.

Tony didn’t answer verbally, he simply nodded his head, his hands reaching back to grab at Peter’s. He ended up holding Tony between his legs for a while, the older man content to simply lean back and soak up the heat from Peter’s increased body temperature.

Later that night, Tony led Peter to bed by the hand, their bellies full of the simple pasta dish they made in the kitchen together. Tony wasn’t the greatest sous chef, but he looked cute in an apron and genuinely wanted to be a distracting help. They sipped on wine and talked about Peter’s lab final at the table after the food was long gone. Tony’s eyes were warm when they took him in, the man’s posture relaxed and carefree – truly open, probably for the first time ever.

Eager fingers undressed him; the trail of Tony’s lips followed by the tantalizing scratch of his well-manicured goatee. Peter let his eyes fall closed, his jaw falling open from the greatness of it. He got carried away by the reverently passionate touches, Tony obviously on a mission to take him to pieces. The symphony of their moans made it hard to figure out where one started and the other began.

When Tony handed him the lube and laid himself out on the sheets, Peter let out a noise of surprise. Their sex life was amazing – Tony knew so many things about sins of the flesh. There wasn’t a single thing they did together that Peter didn’t love. Yet, they never tread into this territory before. Gripping it tightly, Peter stared into Tony’s eyes. The swift knock to the gut the look on Tony’s face hit him with almost made him double over. The purest of trust was reflected in whiskey colored eyes, Tony’s head nodding to the unspoken question Peter posed.

Sliding in for the first time, Peter let out a breathless shout, his body falling against Tony’s. Strong arms wrapped around his middle to keep them flush together. Peter let his head dangle between his shoulders, his forehead resting against a stubbly cheek.

“Please,” Tony moaned, his hands pulling Peter even tighter against him.

Turning his head, Peter pressed a kiss to Tony’s lips, his hips shifting.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”

[autumnblogs]

Day 4: You eat a weird bug and don’t even care.

Starting later than usual today because I’ve been absolutely swamped with work. Let’s get down to business to defeat the Huns.

https://homestuck.com/story/644

I’ve never really gotten why John falls asleep here. Seems an odd place to fall asleep, especially with the adrenaline rush that must have been. Maybe he’s passing out from exactly that? Alternatively, maybe Vriska is putting him to sleep.

 I also forgot that John Sleeps/Skaian Magicant is split between two flashes.

https://homestuck.com/story/651

Ah here we go. John has what are, if Jade is to be believed, lousy dreams. He dreams of his Dad, of clowns, of baked goods, of Fruit Gushers, of his own symbol, the weird knock-off slimer, and Harry Anderson, before finally Jade appears.

I am not a psychologist or therapist. I am not even anything more than an amateur literary critic. But let me give you my take on that. It’s clear that John is dreaming about all kinds of things that are giving him anxiety here, if Jade’s assessment about his dreams being lousy is true.

Harry Anderson is, as he’ll say later, kind of a weird mutual father figure for him and his Dad, and as a stage magician and comedian, he represents John’s aspirations.

John wants to grow up to be a great stage magician and comedian, and if there’s anything we’ve seen about the Heir of Breath so far, it’s how extremely self-critical he is of his abilities - he’s screwed up every disguise and magic trick he’s tried so far. 

The other things are pretty self-explanatory - he’s anxious about his relationship with his Dad, he’s anxious about his Dad’s identity, he’s anxious about his own identity - with the exception of the gushers. Are gushers just symbolizing Sburb for John? Does he have a premonition that the gushers are tainted by the hand of his archnemesis, Betty Crocker? Maybe that one’s just silly.

Maybe they’re all just silly!

https://homestuck.com/story/652

I promise I will have more to say about Jade’s conversations once she is actually introduced, but until then, she is too enigmatic for me to talk about :^)

I will say, if the fact that John is stressing out about everything in his life and just not vocalizing his anxiety, it’s probable that he thinks Jade is just as mysterious as his pals think she is, and is just not talking about it.

I think John, like Jake, is way more intelligent than he lets on, and probably just keeps a lot of things on a simmer, thinking about them without necessarily opening up about them. He talks a lot about surface level stuff for sure, but he seems a lot more hesitant to talk about emotions, theories, that sort of thing. It actually reminds me a lot of how Kim Kitsuragi from Disco Elysium, far from his highly imaginative partner the player character, writes his thoughts down in a notebook to keep track of his through processes, hunches, case details, etc, whereas the Detective organizes everything in an interactive Thought Cabinet that serves as one half of the game’s Inventory and Progression System.

For example, John’s ability to describe and his ability to theorize is on full display in the FAQs that he writes, but when he talks, he’s often just as disorganized as he is everywhere else. Maybe John needs to take up journalling.

Huh. I wonder if Kim is a Prospit Dreamer and the Detective is a Derse Dreamer? That would make a lot of sense. Once @bladekindeyewear finishes playing Disco Elysium (which he is playing at my behest), I’ll see if he’s interested in assigning Lunar Sway, Classes and Aspects to the two of them.

https://homestuck.com/story/665

Dave Owns. The Narrative switches between character perspectives often right before there’s a major climax so that lots of characters can all have climactic encounters in sync with one another.

Eye imagery is on full display here as Dave ascends to the highest point in the building. The Sun over Dave’s house is drawn differently from other abstractions of the Sun in Homestuck, and this particular drawing of the Sun will later be juxtaposed against Terezi’s eyes as Alternia’s Sun burns them out.

The Sun as the Symbol of Light is also juxtaposed with Rose’s eyes later when she uses her seer powers, strengthening the connection between the Sun and Eyes. Near the very beginning of the comic, Rose compares the Sun moving on from the east coast to the west as him casting his lurid gaze on younger parts of the world, or the country. I’m not recalling the exact phrasing at this time.

Lil Cal’s creepy eyes are also highlighted by the Camera here. Through the vehicle of Lil Cal, Lord English is watching and quietly giving approval to all of this.

I choose to interpret the camera’s focus in this flash as giving us a glimpse into what Dave is paying attention to. And boy does Dave notice all of these eyes on him. Between seeing the sun as a malevolent eye watching him, to Lil Cal’s glassy gaze, to the Cameras bro uses to surveil him 24/7, Dave feels like he’s constantly being watched, and I think it’s safe to say it gives him the creeps.

https://homestuck.com/story/673

WV’s self-estimation isn’t much better than John’s.

https://homestuck.com/story/678

I wonder if we can get some insight into the strange minds of the Carapacians in the way that before he’s even finished receiving the commands, WV acts on them. WV is even more impulsive than John.

https://homestuck.com/story/684

Oh yeah, WV’s self-worth is way worse than John’s.

https://homestuck.com/story/685

Luckily almost as soon as his thoughts come, they go. He doesn’t spend too much time brooding over his self-loathing and survivor’s guilt, so good for him.

https://homestuck.com/story/688

A whole bunch of things that are symbolically related to the cast!

While WV’s can town playtime functions as foreshadowing for us, it serves as a replay of the extremely recent past for him, at least in terms of events that we know about.

https://homestuck.com/story/694

The light on Serenity’s belly looks a bit like the Sun, and therefore, an eye.

https://homestuck.com/story/699

The Blue Trees of Can Town call forward to Terezi’s forest, but I don’t think this is probably more substantial than something fun Andrew decided to call back to when he was writing the trolls.

IDK. Maybe Blue Trees = Democracy = Justice?

But Terezi’s brand of justice has nothing to do with Democracy.

https://homestuck.com/story/709

Tab, like GameBro, is an artifact of a bygone age.

https://homestuck.com/story/711

It’s a lot easier to become a citizen of Can Town than it is to become a citizen of the United States!

https://homestuck.com/story/714

I wonder who input all those commands before WV got on board? Maybe whoever was in charge of building these contraptions in the first place - a Carapacian Lab Rat in the Veil.

Always felt like the unseen actors making Sburb run behind the scenes were one of the nicest touches, they lend an air of sinister mystery even beyond the Guardians.

https://homestuck.com/story/721

I am not good at chess.

Maybe sometime, I will have my friend who is good at Chess analyze this game, and see how he feels about it.

https://homestuck.com/story/735

WV’s Self Esteem is very, very bad.

https://homestuck.com/story/752

Our first introduction to the laws of time travel in Homestuck - the past is a place that materially exists, and in only one specific configuration that can be interacted with. You can only bring things forward from the past if nobody else got to them before you. You can’t go back and undo things that somebody else (or you) has already done according to the canonical configuration of events.

https://homestuck.com/story/757

This is ridiculously cool.

Homestuck’s huge climactic story events are arguably one of the things that makes it so special as a story. I can’t think of a story that does such a good job of building up tension in multiple storylines before having them all converge.

https://homestuck.com/story/760

:D

https://homestuck.com/story/765

I wonder what the exact mechanism is by which Jade is aware of the gaming abstractions and commands to the degree that she is? Is it just her Skaian dreams? This could be a one-off gag, but it could also be an indication of a degree of clairvoyance greater than that which I feel like the visions she has as the Prospitian Moon passes through Skaia.

https://homestuck.com/story/768

Jade loves to watch things grow.

It’s a Space Thing.

https://homestuck.com/story/777

According to BladeKindEyeWear’s Inversion Theory Jade’s complicated and carefully orchestrated time loops, which she uses to connect people with possibilities, is an example of her inverting under extreme stress, acting more like a Seer of Time, her opposite, than like a Witch of Space (in much the same way that Rose acts an awful lot like a Witch of Void for much of the comic’s first half!)

I expect a real Seer of Time wouldn’t need quite so many contrivances to keep track of everything going on in the past and future. Eventually, Jade stops using her colourful reminders, which is probably an indicator that she is no longer attempting to play outside of her lane.

https://homestuck.com/story/789

Pretty much all of Jade’s interests cast her immediately as someone with a pretty strong maternal instinct, something that she shares with other heroes of Space. Jade is a caretaker. 

Her playthings are dolls so she can roleplay the part of a Mom. She grows oodles of plants, and seems to have a knack for it. She likes animals, and though the only animal in her life takes care of her, she puts in some work to take care of him too.

Her interests definitely mark her as the more classically girly of the two between her and Rose, and like her brother is preoccupied with manhood and Dadliness, Jade seems to preoccupied with Momliness - which is odd, considering that she doesn’t have a maternal figure to aspire to! (Maybe the White Queen?)

https://homestuck.com/story/790

Jade is not of course, only girly. The same way that Dad’s culturally out-of-place baking hobby marks him as transgressively feminine to John’s dismay, Jade’s scientific and artillerist hobbies are transgressively masculine.

Although it’s tempting to say that Jade loves the sciences because Grandpa raised her to, or because she’s aping him after he died, she’s clearly born to it. I think about the question of nature and nurture a lot in Homestuck.

I think on the whole, it falls pretty far to the side of Nature. Characters who share a common ancestry also share common character traits more often than not, even in the absence of shared cultural touchstones, shared geography, shared timeline. The same character only has a limited number of possible choices that they could have made, as Aranea will later say.

On the other hand, some characters turn out very different in one life than they do in another. Dirk doesn’t turn out nearly the psychopath that Bro Strider is by the time that Homestuck Proper concludes.

https://homestuck.com/story/795

Squiddles are, as everyone knows by now, a manifestation of the Dark Gods of the Furthest Ring, but I think there’s more going on with them too - they have kind of a horny energy that I can’t quite place. I’m going to come back to that. Any case, they seem to be one of the symbols that Rose and Jade share in common, although Rose subverts the colorful and cute squiddles into icons more of the extradimensional beasties that they actually represent.

Maybe I think Squiddles are a symbol of horny for the same reason that snakes are lewd to Cherubs - there’s definitely something phallic about tentacles, and definitely something intimate about the idea of becoming someone’s tangle buddy. The very first time I read Rose’s handle, I thought it read Tentacle The Rapist, which I suspect is kinda the point, and some of Andrew’s other works have variously described the process of interacting with tentacles as being molested and so on and so on.

Rose and Jade actually share a huge number of symbols in common between the two of them, which I think is great, but also sad - Rose and Jade clearly actually have quite a lot in common, and the two of them don’t really interact very much.

https://homestuck.com/story/797

I’m going to eventually decode Jade’s fascination with animals too, but for now I want to remark that it’s not just the idea of looking like an animal that excites Jade - it’s the idea of being  like an animal that excites her. The exact same little poem is later reiterated by Serenity in WV’s nightmare, as he dreams of losing control of the power of the Ring of Orbs Fourfold and killing everyone he loves. What would be a nightmare for WV though is a fantasy for Jade. The idea of being out of control is thrilling for her.

Dave is also a furry.

https://homestuck.com/story/798

The trappings of a proper gentleman. Monocle. Pipe. Top Hat. Little White Gloves. A proper gentleman without these is a piss poor excuse for a proper gentleman indeed.

SYMBOLS.

https://homestuck.com/story/800

Another spot where Jade is able to interface directly with the audience, in some form or another.

https://homestuck.com/story/802

Jade may have fantasies of transforming into something more animalistic, but she’s not willing to indulge them.

https://homestuck.com/story/803

Jade completely rejects the symbols of witchcraft that Rose so readily embraces.

https://homestuck.com/story/804

Jade contemplates engaging in some Vriskaesque behavior. Is it just because Vriska is watching her? Maybe she’s picking up some Vriska-esque vibes through the feed as the Thief of Light practices her mind control. 

https://homestuck.com/story/808

I think it’s safe to say one of two things is going on here.

Jade is either literally cognizant of the audience and interacting with them, putting her on a layer of the story that is quite a lot closer to us than you would expect of someone as innocuous as Jade (maybe the immediate presence of the Fourth Wall upstairs could facilitate that relationship?)

Or Jade has an active imagination, is extremely lonely, and likes to interact with her imaginary audience as a way of projecting a friendly and hospitable demeanor onto the world around her in sort of the exact opposite way that Rose imagines the worst of everything and everyone?

Or, as it often is in Homestuck, it could be both motherfuckin’ things.

https://homestuck.com/story/829

Did I mention Dave is a furry? Dave is totally a furry.

If we read Squiddles as a symbol of intimate contact with living things, Jade’s computer having Squiddles front and center is appropriate - it’s her point of contact to all the people in her life.

Tune in on the morrow to watch Dave’s Bro beat the shit out of him.

Until then, this is Cam signing off, alive and not alone.

[treatian]

The Chronicles of the Dark One: Breaking the Curse

Chapter 60: Not Part of the Plan

He didn't go back to the shop after claiming the egg for himself. He couldn't. He had a gun, but he didn't have magic, and that meant that at the end of the day, Emma and Regina were still faster than he was. The elevator wouldn't hold Emma up for long. She'd climb out, she'd free Regina, and they'd come looking for him, for the egg. The first place they'd look would inevitably be the shop. And so that was undoubtedly the one place he could not go.

The trouble was that he needed to go into the shop. He hadn't planned as well as he thought he had. And he realized it too late.

In a perfect world, he would have removed the potion and gone up into the woods with it right then and there, avoiding Emma and Regina, keeping them firmly one step behind him. But in his planning, he'd forgotten something important. The key. He knew where it was in the shop, but before he'd left for the library he'd been so concerned, worrying about his plan to get the egg that he hadn't worried so much about what he'd do after getting it. He hadn't thought this through well enough. If he could go back, he would have thought to slip the damn thing into his pocket before going to the library, but there was no use whining over his own mistakes, not when he was closer than he'd ever been in his life. A small delay in his morning hike wouldn't be a terrible thing. In fact, it might even be helpful. The sun beginning to rise reminded him that he hadn't thought to bring a flashlight with him when he'd left either. At least this way, by the time he finally got back into the shop and got the egg open, it would be morning.

So, instead of going into the shop to fetch the key, he hid himself. In the alley on the other side of the shop, close to the back door, he stood, and he waited with the understanding that if he could manage to avoid the women when they searched the premises, then the second they were done, he could go back inside and finish what he'd started. But in the gray morning light, as he carefully concealed himself in the alley with his prize, he watched from a distance as something unexpected happened.

Emma and Regina left the library together. But they didn't cross the street to his shop. Instead, he watched as they hurried away, down the road, toward Granny's. He waited where he was, not daring to move even a little bit closer for fear it was some kind of trick. And then he saw Emma's yellow bug speed down the street away from him and his house and any inkling they might have of where he'd be.

That was unexpected.

Completely.

Egg in hand, he let himself sneak away from the back of the alley and slowly approached the street. When he looked down, Emma's bug continued to speed quickly out of view, but he was able to make out that both women were in the car. They were going in the direction of the hospital. He glanced down at the egg in his hand, took a breath, and then nodded to himself in determination.

He didn't know what was going on, but he knew not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Speeding away like that gave him at least a few minutes to get into the shop, get the key, check the potion and go. Sooner was better than later. He had to take his chance.

Inside the shop, he hobbled quickly into the back room. The sun had risen, letting bright light into the room, but he still turned on his overhead light and set the egg down on a clean velvet mat to examine it like he might any valuable antique. It was untouched. Unbreeched. Which meant that if he opened it up…

He swallowed as he reached over into a small tool kit he kept on the table. Inside one of the top draws, the golden key gleamed. A key he'd kept for twenty-eight years because Mr. Gold had always worried the moment he threw it away, its lock would reappear. Funny, it was almost as if the Curse wanted to be broken. He tried to remain calm, to still his racing heart as he inserted the key perfectly into the lock then gave it a few twists until he felt the mechanism inside click. And then he opened it…

It was perfect.

The bottle, the potion, even the felted protective covering. Everything was just as he remembered putting it in decades ago, years before Emma had ever been born, all for this moment. He could have wept with joy.

Ever so carefully, with hands as steady as he could make them, he removed the bottle from its home for these past many years and examined what was left.

It wasn't much. As he held it up to the light, he realized that was perhaps the only difference. The Curse, it seemed, had gotten to some of it, been able to use some of it as its battery, but not all of it. There wasn't a lot of it left, barely a single swallow, but if he could put it in the right place, it wouldn't matter. It was the most powerful potion in the world. It would do its job.

He flinched at the sound of the bell ringing in the front of the shop. Then paused for a second, certain that if Emma and Regina had come back, they would have called out his name. No name meant it might not be them, but there was no promise of that. Quickly he swallowed, pocketed the potion for safety, then turned his back to hide the egg and the key in a small trunk he had on the table behind him. If it was Emma and Regina, they might see him get away without the egg and search for it. That might buy him some time to-

"Excuse me, are you Mr. Gold?"

He sighed in relief. It was neither Emma nor Regina's voice. Probably just some stranger out for some early shopping who hadn't taken note of the "closed" sign on his door. He probably should have locked himself in when he arrived. That was his own fault. He'd lock it on the way out.

"Yes, I am. But I'm afraid the shop's…closed…"

He turned.

The world stopped.

Heartbeat.

Breath.

Time.

Pawnshop.

Everything was gone. Obliterated.

It was gone because what he was seeing couldn't possibly be real.

"I was uh…I was told to…to find you and…tell you that Regina locked me up," the girl stuttered awkwardly with an accent and voice his ears recognized but hadn't heard in decades. His blood had chilled in his veins, and his fingers and toes were numb as he took her in. The last time he'd seen her…it had been longer than the potion had been around. Her hair was unkempt. She wore some awful hospital gown and sneakers that had to be too big for her, a coat that reeked so badly of mothballs he could smell it even from this distance.

But it didn't matter. None of those things mattered.

She was still the most beautiful thing he'd ever beheld in his very long life.

"Does…does that mean anything to you?" she questioned hopefully.

Belle.

His Belle.

But...how?

He stared at her slack-jawed, feeling slowly returning to his body. It was only then that he realized he was moving, step by step closer to where the person stood.

It was a trick. It had to be. What he was seeing wasn't real. It was magic. To see her again, like this or not, was magical, so there was no other explanation besides magic.

Except for the problem that magic still wasn't in Storybrooke. To create an illusion like that…that would require great magic. Magic this world didn't have, magic that this Curse would have swallowed up to keep itself running. If not magic, then…hallucination? A ghost?

He swallowed hard. He hesitated. His hand was shaking as he hadn't allowed it to when he uncovered the potion, and his mouth was dry. But finally, he forced himself to reach out his hand and grasp her shoulder.

He was worried, half expected that his hand would go straight through her; that he'd find she was a ghost or a trick, a person in very convincing make-up. He was afraid she'd disappear again.

But no matter how hard he squeezed, she remained in front of him, a solid, living being, looking nearly as baffled as he felt.

He felt dizzy. There was no explanation.

Except…

"You're real…"

It had to be real.

She was real.

He didn't have his magic yet to try and sense any kind of Dark Magic on her, something that would have been necessary to create what a trick as convincing as she was, but he already knew that she wasn't a lie or a trick. There was no Dark Magic this strong available during the Curse that would conjure her.

She was real. She had to be.

"You're alive."

There was no explanation for it outside of her being here, alive, living and breathing in front of him.

She wasn't a hallucination. If she were, she would have appeared before him as he knew her to be, in a blue dress with a beautiful smile and perfectly groomed hair.

She wasn't a magical illusion. If she were, then he wouldn't have been able to touch her, to squeeze her shoulder as he had.

She wasn't made of magic. There wasn't enough magic in the town, to begin with, and there also was only one person in the town that knew about her and could have had the power to conjure her. That was Regina.

But he knew it wasn't Regina.

First of all, when Belle appeared, he'd just seen Regina drive off with Emma in the opposite direction. There wouldn't have been time to access her magic and create this. Second of all…there was what she'd said. "Are you Mr. Gold," no mention of his true name. "Regina locked me up. Does that mean anything to you" because it meant nothing to her.

If Regina was going to create her from magic to torment him, there was no reason to dress her as she was and leave her with no memories of him, not a clue who he was or where she was, in a clearly Cursed state. And then there was the implication of the words she'd said. "I was told…" She'd been told to find him. Told her to tell him that Regina had locked her up. That was the nail in the coffin, though, wasn't it? She wasn't a lie or a trick. Someone had released her to get revenge. Someone had released her from someplace she'd been where she'd been…what? A chess piece? A card to play?

He didn't know who had released her, but he knew who had kept her like this all these years.

Regina.

"She did this to you?"

Regina had her. How could he have not known? How could he have been so stupid! It was Regina who had told him that she'd died all those years ago knowing he wouldn't explore it; knowing he'd believe her father was as awful as he believed; knowing that he wouldn't find her because the very woman who had told him all that was the very woman who had her locked away. From him! Probably ever since she'd left.

Where?

How?

All questions he didn't have answers to yet. She'd kept her locked up, probably in the hospital from the looks of it, after the Curse had taken effect, waiting for the right moment to play this card. But someone had gotten to her first. Who had freed her, who had told her to say that Regina had her, that he'd protect her…he didn't know. Judging by the state of her, they'd done her a great favor.

They'd done him a great favor.

He wanted to know everything.

"I was told you'd protect me…"

Her hesitant words forced him out of his brain and back into what was right in front of him.

Right in front of him…

Just as she'd been once before! Before he'd…

Oh, he'd had the opportunity to prevent this, to protect her once before. He'd given it up, and now this…this was all his fault.

Not again. Never again.

"Oh, yes," he choked. And without giving himself permission, he did the one thing he'd never done in their time together. He flung himself at her, pulled her into his arms, and held her against his chest. "Yes, I'll protect you!"

He wept with overwhelming joy. Because she was real. Because she was alive. Because she was here. He'd never let anything happen to her again!

This time he wasn't going to let her go.

But suddenly, he felt her go stiff against him, felt her push and step away, not out of his grasp but just enough to break his embrace.

"I'm…I'm sorry. Do…do I know you?" she questioned, squinting at him confused and hopefully all at once again.

Suddenly he recognized what had just happened in a most uncomfortable way. They'd been here before, several times, when the tables had been turned. How many times had she hugged him in the Enchanted Forest? How many times had she reached out in joy and thrown her arms around him? And how often had he stood there stiff as a board? Uncomfortable? Unsure of where to put his hands or how to respond because he didn't know what she was to him?

Every time.

He'd denied her every single fucking time.

He had to fix it. He had to fix it now, and it all started with the potion in his pocket.

"No," he whispered, trying to give her a gentle and reassuring smile. Everything she knew about him was based on these moments. For now. "But you will."

He wanted to know everything. He wanted her to know everything. He wanted to stay and hold her, stare at her, memorize the features he hadn't seen in decades, have a moment he'd only dreamed about. But not now. His heart had stopped when he'd seen her, but he was suddenly ever aware of a clock ticking behind him. Time had started again.

Regina and Emma had driven away, but he had no assurance they wouldn't come back. He wanted to be long gone by the time that happened.

He brushed his hand over his pocket again, making sure he had what he needed. Then on instinct reached for her hand to guide her out with him.

But she pulled it free. She dug her heels in, stubborn as ever, just as he remembered her.

"Come with me," he muttered before placing a hand on her back instead. She obeyed his touch and followed him back out into the shop. "There's something we have to do, but everything…everything will be clear soon enough. I promise, I'll answer all your questions soon."

It was unfair of him to ask that he trust her so soon. But it had to be done. They had to go. He was so close to succeeding. He could make this work. He could protect her and finish this plan.

He had to.

[ghoulfriendfam]

Shane Madej X Reader

College Bookshop AU!!

Summary: You are in college and for the past eight months you have been wrapped up reading books from a mysterious recommender that is only identified as “S” in your look bookstore. You have been trying to piece together who “S” is for month to no avail- but when you meet a handsome and helpful sales clerk you think you might have found your man!

Part 2 of 5; Part 1 (I will link the updates as they come out!)

The book was good- as always. You had spent every spare moment, even staying up far into the night, for the past three days trying to finish it. It was a page turner, that much was true. It was slow but it was burning with twists and turns and Cold War shenanigans. But you knew the real reason why you couldn’t put it down and that was due to a much more personal type of espionage.

The book was lonely. No one in it got what they wanted. Everyone was searching for something they couldn’t have- the governments wanted power- the spy wanted freedom. And as you finally closed the last page you felt your mind alight with theories as you were struck with the meaning of it all. You see the spy dies at the end. He dies by refusing to bend the coldness of the system- he dies for love. None of the other books “S” had recommended had ended like that- with such a sentiment… Usually there was a strong nihilistic or absurdist comedy to the books that you had read. But this was honest. It was poignant. It made you think things.

You took a sip of your drink. It was Monday evening- and the rain still hadn’t stopped. You watched it from the cafe windows as it ran down the street in rivers. It would be a humid summer. But for now it was pleasant. You ran your finger across the cover of the book, as if to absorb the aura of the words and the hands that had read them before you.

“S” you thought. “Shane” you hoped.

You packed up your things and headed to the bookstore. This had been your third time visiting in as many days. You had been bringing paperwork and your laptop to look busy but in truth you were there to shamelessly spy. From over the top of your laptop and from between the cracks of the shelves, you had been watching him as he moved around the shop like a classical conductor- adjusting shelves- stocking books- and drinking tea on his breaks. He had a way of moving smoothly around the store that gave the impression that he had always been there.

As you came into the store, he turned to you and smiled- God how he smiled.

“Hiya welcome in!” He greeted, his voice sing-songy.

“Hi!” You waved, wondering if it was becoming obvious that he was the reason you were here.

“Looks like you have a lot of work on your hands,” He pointed, to the piles of stuff in you were carrying.

You might have gone a little overkill this time, but you wanted a good excuse to stay.

“Oh it’s nothing-” You ruffled literally and emotionally, “Just some grading- I’m a TA for this film class.”

“Film,” He sounded it out, with a lovely hum, “I can get down to that!”

I can get down on you. You bit your lip. Had you actually just thought that- you usually weren’t such a pushover- but something about his gaze made you feel helpless to it.

“Yeah,” You smiled, reflexively adjusting the strap to your bag, “It’s pretty interesting stuff.”

“Well,” He said gesturing to the shop, “I hope you find some peace and quiet and whatever else you are looking for.”

“Thanks,” You nodded, partially avoiding his gaze lest you were lost in it.

Pushing past the bookcases of the classics, you took up space in a little cove constituted of a refurbished writing desk and a fern. You like sitting here because the fern obscured your face- or least you hoped it did- so you could sneak periodic stares at him. You hadn’t acted this bad since highschool about somebody. It was positively stupid. But you did it anyway.

He was doing inventory today. His head was bouncing up and down to the jazz that was playing in the store. You swore it was magic- whatever he put in his hair- it glowed like glass- or the after picture in a Pantene commercial. Mindlessly you shuffled through your papers- while admiring how softly he moved around. For such a tall guy he was agile- lively. There was an energy about him that made you feel alive by just looking at him.

You had it bad and you hadn’t even really talked to him. And that was before even considering that he could be “S.” You looked at him as if you could find clues through his gestures alone. Every so often, when the soft rainy light came into the shop and glanced upon his back, casting a shadow under his shoulders, you knew that even if he wasn’t “S” he certainly was someone for you.

He turned in your direction. Your eyes darted down. You were a busy busy person- clearly! Look at all these papers. There was nothing to see here other than work. Quitely, you heard the sound of footsteps approaching, and from the stride you knew that they were his. You ducked your head down and began to check off random things on the paper you were “grading.”

“Do you mind?”

Shit. Your cheeks felt absolutely crimson. He had seen you looking- God did he know that you had been looking the whole time- was he coming to tell you to bug off. Meekly, with the best impression of an untroubled face you turned towards him.

“Yes?”

“I just have to ah-” He pointed at the shelf above you where there were some extra copies of Gone Girl and what not stashed away.

“Oh! Of course-” You grabbed your stuff to move.

“Oh!” He held out his hand- his fingers nearly brushing your shoulder, “You don’t have to move- I don’t want to disturb you or anything- I just need like two copies to fill out this display- you know symmetry and all that-”

You did know.

“No problem- I mean go right ahead-”

He laughed- shakily- in response. Was he actually nervous- or maybe you had just made it awkward. Probably the latter.

Shane took a step in and reached over you. He was close enough for you to feel the slight warmth of his body heat grazing over you- tugging at you to move just a little closer. The light scent of something woodsey and warm caressed your senses. It was just faint enough that you had to literally fight to stop yourself from breathing it in a bit deeper. He didn’t even need a ladder to reach the top shelf- he just lightly pushed forward onto the balls of his feet. The books fitted easily into his long articulate hand.

“Thanks,” He said, his tone somewhat lower than before. His eyes- twinkling- flicked down for a moment at you.

“Don’t mention it…”

A shadowy smile formed on his face as he walked away- like something had been said- transmitted in the air. You recalled the novel- the subtle and slow burn. It was just a glance. It was just a normal interaction. But it was crazy how quick it was to draw conclusions.

For the rest of the time you spent at the shop, you got a surprising amount of work done. It was almost frightening how easy it would be to fall completely- and in all likelihood probably hit the cold floor- over him. You were getting ahead of yourself- and you knew it- so you forced yourself to focus.

Soon, after several piles of work had been shifted from one side of the desk to the other, the hour grew late. You didn’t want to overstay, that would surely make it even more obvious- or maybe that was just the paranoia speaking… Either way you stacked your papers into your bag and made your way to the door- trying your hardest not to instinctively look for him before leaving. Your heart fell a little when he wasn’t in direct eyesight. But that was okay- you could see him tomorrow- and the day after- and the day after that. By God you had it stupid bad.

You put your hood up, and pressed your shoulder against the door to leave.

“Hey hold up!” You immediately turned towards his voice. You could feel that your expression was all eyes- you couldn’t help it- he had that effect on you.

Shane had a rushed- maybe even shy smile on his face. In his hands were two portable mugs.

“It’s gotten ah-” He stopped as if he was doubting acceptability of his actions. “It’s gotten well pretty nippy outside for ah well May.”

You looked back at him- a bit like a stunned bird that had flown into a window- jeez why couldn’t you be more natural.

“You know they say El Nino or something- temperature drops- hail- I got the weather alert on my phone,” He was stumbling, “You like cider?”

You managed a nod.

“Well, um we, I mean the shop had some in the back and I heated it some up for- for you too.”

He didn't say it but it was clear, he had wanted to say us. Was this even real life?

“I just thought- well you looked so tired- I mean you we were working so hard- so um”

“Cider is lovely,” You quietly murmur.

He handed over the warm mug- his hand hand brushing yours. 

“Don’t worry about the cup you can just bring it back tomorrow,” He turned green, “Or whenever- I mean whenever- it’s just a cup.”

“Tomorrow is good... I mean- thank-you for thinking of me...”

He glowed, relieved. You stood for a beat more at the door silently. You knew you needed to leave now or it was going to get awkward- but by god, you didn’t want to.

“Um, Thanks again-” You whispered, the air becoming very quiet as you leaned into the door, “Have a nice night.”

“You too,” He echoed as if this interaction had made it infinitely better.

Walking home you didn’t even feel the rain. It was frigid- yes- exactly like how he had said it would be- but that didn’t matter. You took a sip of the cider- and it was one of the best things you had ever tasted.