#pink cat behaviour in this case(?

[brayneworms]

prompt: l lawliet + food play + pink

wc. 2.8k. gn!reader, foodplay, virgin!l, handjobs, sliiiight come eating, reader is a wet cat in a cardboard box kinda, safe sane and consensual, no real power dynamics.

L contextualises things in the way he sees the world.

Strings of numbers, statistics, behavioural patterns that he's memorised to a 'T' until he can tell guilt from the aversion of an eye or fury from the remnants of nails pressed into the palm of someone's hand. It's why maybe something like sex or desire is a struggle for him. It's not that he doesn't understand it, it's more like he doesn't see the—the need for it, or whatever. You chalk it up to him being extremely busy and also probably totally asexual and don't think about it.

(Don't think about it much.)

It sort of surprises you that it's you he corners with his questions about. Maybe he's more embarrassed than he lets on—as it is, he looks cool as a cucumber save for the faintest shade of pink across his cheekbones. There's no way he would escape a conversation about it from anyone on the squad without a degree of ragging. Misa would squeal like a pig if L dared to broach the topic with her, you're sure. Matsuda would blush bright red and trip over all his words, and Aizawa would probably stare at him like he'd set his firstborn on fire.

And Light is Light. He probably knows little more than L, for all the airs he puts on.

So it's you he comes to. When it first starts, you think it has something to do with a case or lead he's hunting. Tell me, have you had sex before?

Perched like a frog, licking whipped cream off his finger. You don't know if he's doing to be provocative or not; don't know which is worse, that he's aware of what he's doing or not.

"This isn't exactly proper workplace conversation L."

A flicker of a smile. Cheeky, omniscient. "Feel free to report me to HR, in that case."

You do answer—honestly and concisely, if not with a shade of awkwardness. He's essentially your boss. But L seems so far removed from the worlds of sexuality and desire that it seems harmless, occupational, and eventually it stops feeling embarrassing. Out of nowhere—what is the purpose of restrains in an intimate context? Why do you think some people like to feel as though they have no control in the bedroom? Would you say that visual pornography has given watchers unrealistic expectations of actual intercourse?

One night, the two of you alone in front of a big glowing screen, turning to him and asking. "Why do you ask me this stuff, anyway? Is it for a case?"

"No," he says neutrally. A quick glance from his dark eyes you could almost describe as coy. "I'm just... curious."

"Curious," you echo, deadpan. "You?"

"Does that surprise you?" he murmurs. You almost feel that your honest answer—yes—would be insulting now, so instead you just shrug and mumble something incoherent under your breath. "You're not completely wrong. I thought having a better understanding of things like sex and power dynamics would be beneficial in the long run. Most people have a greater knowledge of it than me, which—puts me at a disadvantage." He says these last words with an air of revulsion, as though the very concept of knowing less than someone sours in his mouth, and you chuckle at his childishness.

"That makes sense." You pause. Wonder if you're reading this all wrong, then barrel ahead anyway. "Wouldn't actually experiencing it for yourself lend a better understanding than anything else, though?"

L's eyebrow raises. His smile has vanished, leaving him bug-eyed and unreadable. "What are you suggesting?"

He's not stupid, and you're not subtle. He knows exactly what you were suggesting. The fact that he's trying to get you to go into more detail rather than firing you on the spot is probably a good sign, and further than you expected to get. You squirm in your seat.

"You know. It's like being told about how something feels rather than knowing," you say awkwardly. "I'm just—can I ask—"

"It only seems fair," L says slowly. "After I've been badgering you with my own questions for so long." His chair spins; he rests his wrists on his rucked-up knees, fingers steepled in front of him. "Please."

Hot-faced, you spin your chair aimlessly. "Okay, well, uh—have you? I mean, before?"

L hesitates before he shakes his head, an almost imperceptible twitch that has his dark hair floating. You swallow the sudden large dry lump in your throat.

"Okay. So. Probably somewhere to start," you mumble.

L seems to consider this. "Would you be willing?"

You don't have the right to be surprised, with all the dancing around the subject, but you are, still. You choke on your spit and fly around to look at him, which is a mistake. His gaze is so dark and intense, and you think he can see right through you before you even open your mouth to answer.

"I'm not—" you stammer, with no idea what you're going to say. "I mean—"

"I had assumed you would be," L goes on calmly, but you catch the slight flicker of his eyes, a ghost of uncertainty that makes your chest squeeze. "If I have read your responses incorrectly, though, feel free to forget I asked. I can guarantee no awkwardness tomorrow."

"It's not that," you blurt. L blinks at you, go on. "It's just... do you have any idea what you're, you know. Into? Where to start?"

L's eyes flicker, the barest furrow knitted between his brows. You can tell he hasn't thought too hard about it. "What would you suggest?" he asks, curling his long fingers over his knees.

You swallow. "Well... anything you like the idea of, I guess. Something familiar, to ease you into it."

L's eyes roll over to his desk, where a perfectly glistening slice of strawberry cake waits for him. Pink sponge and halved red berries, topped with pale pink cream. "Familiar," he echoes. "I may have a suggestion."

-

So you feed L a strawberry just to get started.

Hold it up. It's distinctly awkward; L just stares at it for a moment, the berry dusted with frosting that glistens between your fingers. You tell him, "If you're not comfortable with this, sex is probably going to be—"

He leans forward and plucks the fruit from between your fingers; you feel the barest ghosting of teeth, the sweep of his tongue sharp and curious against the pads of your fingers before he leans back again. You watch the motions of his jaw and throat as he chews and swallows. Pins you with his headlamp stare, wide and dark.

You deconstruct the strawberry cake carefully, removing the berries and setting them to the side. Cast a look over at him. "Take off your shirt?"

L twists the hem of this shirt for a few moments before removing it. It feels so strange to see him devoid of clothing, like a knight removing their armour. Pale ribs, pinched waist. He's not whipcord-thin like you had imagined—there's lean muscle packed under the skin, his stomach flat and somewhat soft. It flexes almost nervously when you look at it. He reclines back on his bed without being told, bracing his weight onto his elbows, legs dangling off the side.

"You sure about all this?" you ask, glancing from the smooth planes of his white skin—shit—to the plate of crumbling pink dessert. "Didn't think you'd be into, you know. All the mess."

"I have a shower," L says reflexively.

You take that as permission to approach with the plate. You place the strawberry halves in a red dotted line, starting at his clavicle, watching him shiver and flex at the cold touch. Down—one at the bottom of his ribs, one above his bellybutton, one at his naval just above the low sling of his jeans. He's started to flush, prettily pink down his chest. It makes you slightly dizzy.

"Okay. So. Okay." You try not to feel so nervous, but it's more like you feel out of place, or time, or space. It feels surreal, basically. Standing between L's legs with your fingers stained pink from fruit and frosting. Him looking up at you like that, all big dark round eyes and slightly parted lips. Damn it. You take a deep, steadying breath. "Okay, so, I'll start now if you're okay. And just say if you don't want—if you want to stop, or if you don't like anything, just say, okay?"

"I understand the basic premises of consent, if that's what you're trying to affirm." The words are all L, but there's an element of breathlessness to them.

"Just making sure we're clear," you mutter. You lean forward and smooth a palm over his collarbones. They're sharp, they jut up to meet your hand like cut diamond, and you hear and see his breath hitch, which is slightly intoxicating. His skin is warmer and softer than you thought it would be. You run your hands over his shoulders and neck, which he squirms away from with a wrinkled nose.

"No neck?" you ask.

He shakes his head. So no neck.

Once you're done exploring this part of his body, you lean forward, close your lips around the strawberry and bite the end of it, sinking your teeth into the flesh. Pink juice runs down your chin; L's eyes follow it, transfixed, as you tilt your head forward and push your mouthful against his lips. They part unquestioningly, and you push the strawberry into his mouth with your tongue. Your lips brush together, tantalising and sweet with sugar. A mimic of a kiss, a palimpsest of intimacy. You don't want to overwhelm him, anyway.

This goes on; your hands over his chest next, the soft pectorals. An experimental brush of your thumb over his left nipple that makes his whole body shudder. He's so sensitive, reacting to every prod and touch and tweak with a jerk and a shiver. Gooseflesh blooms up his skin, pebbling his nipples, and when you tweak the other one gently he lets out a choked sound.

Finding the strawberry nestled under his ribs. Taking it between your teeth and passing it to him. His face gets pinker with each one. Stomach, concave, flexing with every hard breath. A ticklish spot over his belly button. Strawberry, bite, pass. The flex of his jaw as he chews.

Fingers over his waist, indenting the skin as much as you dare. You try not to think of how easily he would bruise. Brushing your touch over his lower abdomen makes his breath catch again. You find the strawberry, hold it between your lips. L cranes his neck, searching this time—he thinks he knows the game, has memorised the steps, found the pattern, the sequence. He doesn't know that the best sex is the unpredictable kind. This time, you press your lips against him and when your tongue pushes the strawberry into his mouth it stays there. His lips part, slack against yours, either in shock or inexperience. You allow yourself the briefest twirl of your tongue against his before pulling back with a wet pop.

L stares at you as you retreat. The strawberries leave pale pink residue on his skin. Pulling back fully reveals the hardness between his legs, pushing up against the dark denim of his jeans. He grunts when your eyes land on it, either out of embarrassment or frustration. You swallow and its like sandpaper.

"Still want me to...?"

"I have not changed my mind," he replies, slightly hoarsely and a beat slower than usual. You shrug, smooth your hands over the tent at his crotch, and he whines. It's the most searing noise you've pulled from him yet, and all from some halfhearted palming over the jeans. It sends a thrill zipping through you, hot and addicting. His arms shake with the weight of holding himself up, neck craning to follow as you sink to your knees between his legs.

You unzip him, pop the button, and he groans slightly at the freedom from the constraints of his clothes. He's fully hard, straining against his dark underwear. You experiment, rubbing at the tip, feeling for the wet spot, and he keens and thrashes, losing his stability and crashing to the mattress. He makes a frustrated noise just after, as though cursing himself for his own lack of control.

"That—" he swallows hard, breathes shakily. "That feels..."

Your hand hovers. "Am I stopping?"

"No, I don't..." He scrambles. L scrambles over his words. "Please, continue."

You stroke him over his underwear for a few concentrated minutes, mostly enjoying the way he twitches and huffs and occasionally makes soft, whiny noises, the way he starts to rut his hips against your hand. No technique, no rhythm, just some sort of baseless desire that you find incredibly hot. There's almost a frustration to it that makes you want to laugh—of course there would be nothing more agonising to someone like L than seeing what he wanted so close to him but being unable to accomplish it himself.

When he starts gritting his teeth, you pull his boxers down to his thighs and he makes a choking, embarrassed sound. When you wrap your fingers around his cock for the first time, finding it velvety-soft and leaking, his eyes roll back and his hips arch into the loose wet tunnel of your hand. "Oh," is all he says. Small and soft like he's surprised. His neck twists and his mouth presses into the starched white sheets. "Oh," he says again as your fist moves slowly, stroking with intent, up and down. He's not overly big, fits nicely in your hand, makes swiping over the head where the pre beads with your thumb nice and convenient. And you love the way he shudders and thrashes when you do it.

"How does that feel?" Your voice is lower than you remember it being. L cracks a bleary eye open; his face is flushed bright pink now, a flush that bleeds all the way down his chest, blending in with the strawberry stains.

"It feels," he starts, before his brow pinches. "I—I am not sure how to—how to describe..."

"It's okay," you tell him. His thighs shake, flexing against the edge of the mattress. When he tips his head back the cords in his pretty throat bulge, so biteable. "You can come whenever."

"I wasn't—oh," he gasps, squirming. "I wasn't aware I n-needed your—permission, oh."

"Yeah, well," you say intelligently, a little struck dumb by the sight before you. "Just making sure we're on the same page."

"A-and what page is that?" he pants, thrusting his hips messily into your hand. He's so fucking sensitive that you swear you can see his eyes growing shiny.

"The one where I help you out, so don't be a brat," you murmur. L laughs breathlessly, trying, you think, to summon some retort. You twist your fist around him and it died, half-formed in his brain, his eyes rolling back and fingers flexing hard in the sheets.

After another minute, he reaches out and grabs your wrist hard enough to bruise. He doesn't say it—can't, maybe. But you know. Your pace speeds up just a touch and he honest to god moans, spilling out of him soft and breathy before he comes, streaking over his stomach in pearly arcs. You watch him flinch at the contact, fingers slipping on your wrist. His chest flexes—in, out, in, out.

You collect a big scoop of pink frosting on your finger and dip it in the come starting to cool between his pecs before pressing it to his lips. L's brow wrinkles, startled—but he opens his lips and lets your fingers pass into the hot cavern of his mouth. Like a cat he licks your finger clean, pointed pink tongue prodding with no technique or flourish, just something steadfast, something stubborn.

You do him the dignity of tucking his softened cock back into his underwear and zipping up his jeans. Unsure how to proceed until L sits up rather abruptly. His hair is even more tousled from his tossing and turning as he reaches for a tissue to wipe himself down.

He looks at you. "I understand it's customary to offer some sort of equivalent exchange in these circumstances." A pause whilst he gathers his breath. "You'll have to forgive me. I'm not quite feeling up to the task."

His tone is normal, if a little shaky. You rock back on your heels. "Did you like it?"

L blinks at you. "My curiosity has been sated," he says, carefully. "Yes, I believe I did enjoy it."

Well, that's a relief if nothing else. The pink remnants of the strawberry cake it on the plate; the shade matches his blush.

[stsgluver]

𝐒𝐍𝐀𝐏𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓 𝐏𝐓.𝟒 — gojo satoru

synopsis. nobara can’t find the dvd anywhere and gojo has a decision to make

wc. 4k

tags. fluff, angst (kinda), reader is described as fem, possibly ooc gojo (my bad), cliffhanger-ish, any spelling mistakes blame on my cats, possible plotholes

a/n. several things to address: firstly my description of dvds and how they work ARE SO FLAWED IK DON'T JUDGE. secondly, look I get how rct works so not everything I say is accurate but like this is also about 2d men so who's to judge. finally I'm not too sure about this chapter so if its shit lmk BUT I HOPE YOU ALL LOVE IT THANK YOU FOR THE SUPPORT <333 ily all but I do have upcoming exams so the ending(s), won't be posted till possibly early February as I have to get back to studying :(

previous part / final part / series masterlist

“guys we’ve lost it.” nobara pushed up her mattress, phone pressed between her ear and her shoulder as she peered beneath the wooden slats. all there was was her suitcase and a bag from an expensive shop she’d convinced gojo to buy for her. “it’s gone. poof. here once and now it’s not.” the ‘it’ in question being the dvd they’d treasured for the last few weeks (well, yuuji and nobara anyways).

after gojo had taken the dvd – unbeknownst to the first years – nobara had ended up sleeping for the next fourty eight hours, and then afterwards spending several days catching up on the classwork she’d missed. she hadn’t had the time or energy to force her classmates into another movie night so now here they were, almost a week since it was last touched, finally realising its disappearance.

“do you want me and megumi to come help?” yuuji asked tentatively as he heard her curse as she dropped the mattress back down. nobara sighed, glancing around at the chaos she’d created. her room was a mess – drawers half open and half her clothes and books on the floor in case the dvd had slipped into a pile by accident. 

“it’s not in my room,” she said adamantly, pushing her hair back from her face in frustration as she struggled to piece together the final moments she had with the dvd. she could remember sending megumi away, beginning her little day of research and even some of the videos she watched (the arcade and the christmas reunion), but then she fell asleep and everything was hazy from there.

“when was the last time you had it?” megumi asked and nobara felt her eye twitch like she hadn't retraced her steps a million times already.

“the first day i was off sick. i was watching a few–”

“without us?” the pink haired sorcerer cut in with a gasp.

“what else was there to do?” nobara argued back with no bite but he quietened down nonetheless. 

a moment of silence settled between the three as each tried to figure out where it could have been misplaced or who could’ve accidentally picked it up. if nobara had dropped it somewhere outside of her dorm, could one of the older years taken it?

nobara was brought out of deep thought by yuuji flippantly asking: “did you watch any after sensei came to see you?” she froze at the implication of his words. at no point could she recall their teacher ever coming in to check on her – it had always been either yuuji, megumi or maki. 

“what?” 

several hours later, the three first years found themselves huddled on the benches, nobara in the middle and the boys either side of her. in front of them were the second years and gojo – the latter having said something to annoy maki as yuuta held her back from making a swing at their laughing teacher. the second year teacher was off ill today so the larger class meant that the three had a distraction as they tried to figure out what their next step was – if they even had one at this point.

the assumed facts were as such: the first years were no longer in possession of the dvd, and gojo had it. though there was little doubt that this was true, it didn’t stop them questioning the possibility – after all, megumi had pointed out, there’d been no alter in his behaviour whatsoever since the minute he’d checked on nobara. surely, even the strongest would be noticeably affected by a disk that immortalised a happiness and innocence he’d never be able to return to.

but then again, maybe this was just another thing that separated gojo from the rest of society. being the strongest came before all else, he didn’t have the time to mourn resurfaced memories.

“maybe he just doesn’t have it,” yuuji suggested.

“he has to,” nobara reaffirmed. at this point they’d exhausted all other options about where it could possibly be and surely they would have heard if one of the older years found what they had. “would he tell you if he had it?” she asked megumi.

“no,” megumi said quickly, shaking his head and leaning back on the bench as he looked over at gojo, “we… he wouldn’t talk to me about that. about them.”

“could we steal it back?” yuuji offered and nobara debated duct taping his mouth closed.

megumi scoffed, shaking his head, “he has six eyes. even if we tried, he’d know for sure it was us.”

“he already knows it was us,” nobara countered, not that she agreed with yuuji’s solution by any means. “which is why i don’t get why he hasn’t said anyth–”

“oi, you three!” the first years jumped apart from their circle, hearts pounding as gojo appeared before them with a smirk toying at the corner of his lips and his hands clasped behind his back. “whoever beats maki in hand to hand combat gets the day off tomorrow!”

“yuuji if you win, i’m taking your day off,” nobara called out as she trailed behind the aforementioned boy running to the centre of the field. 

“okay!”

unsurprisingly, all three first years lost against the second year. megumi came closest to winning but when he tried to use his cursed technique, gojo countered it, catching him off guard and giving maki the opportunity to sweep him off his feet with her staff.

gojo found himself still laughing over megumi’s shocked expression as he fell flat on his back as he stepped past the threshold of his office. even after all he’d taught the boy in combat, with no cursed technique it was hard to overcome the zenin girl’s strength and skill she’d mastered to take on her own clan.

he let out a small sigh as the door locked shut and, for the first time that day, he was alone with his own thoughts.

dropping down into his office chair, gojo crossed one leg over the other as he pulled open a drawer. on the top of a pile of unread paperwork for the higher ups was the dvd the first years were so fixated on. 

he wasn’t stupid; he knew eventually they would figure out he had it and, unlike himself, they’d been way less subtle once they’d put two and two together. yuuji’s speech had tripled in speed, nobara was way too keen on being anywhere but where he was and megumi… gojo couldn’t forget the guilt and hurt in the teenage boy’s eyes after telling him you were gone. it was here again, had been for several weeks, and it was only after stumbling upon the disk in nobara’s room that he’d understood why.

gojo gritted his teeth together as he held the disk up between shaky fingers. it was pathetic, he scolded himself, it was just a bit of plastic with memories lasered into divots in a never ending spiral. it wasn’t worth the heartache.

if he looked closely enough, he could see shoko’s name written on the centrepiece in faded black sharpie. after gojo had stumbled upon the old camera several years after graduating from jujutsu high, shoko had taken back the camera to transfer all of the old clips onto dvds and given him, herself, nanami and you your own copies. he couldn’t even remember where his and yours were anymore, in fact he’d pretty much forgotten about their existence until a week ago.

he wasn’t sure where shoko had lost the dvd for the first years to get their hands on it but he hadn’t worked up the courage to speak to her about it. he hadn’t worked up the courage to do anything more than just spin the disk between his fingers, cry about it for a bit, and go back to pretending he didn’t have the last remnants of his youth in his drawer.

gojo glanced between the disk and the laptop on his desk. it was the last step he needed to take to hear your voice again. it had been on repeat for the last week in his mind; you uttering his name and that innocent question, would you last beyond your teenage years?

he missed it, missed you so bad.

raising megumi was a lot harder without you there; you were his favourite after all, bridging the gap between the two when they bumped heads with their contrasting personalities. gojo was all rainbows and giggles and megumi was everything but. you were a happy medium, creating a balance that maintained order in the home you shared. it was a peace that megumi deserved after losing his parents.

gojo clicked his tongue, reaching across to press a button that opened up a space for the disk. slotting it in place, he clicked the device shut and held his breath as he waited. it took several seconds for the files to load and then there he was again, back in those fields under the large weeping willow that was your spot.

the video was paused, exactly where it had been left, except this time gojo could actually see the screen.

your face wasn’t in it, just his. his glasses were off – balanced on your head if he remembered correctly – as he used your lap as a pillow. one of your hands was holding the camera while the other was held over his eyes to block any sort of light. the only thing he could make out was your cursed energy.

you were nearing the end of your first year and whilst gojo was growing more powerful, he was also growing more and more reliant on his glasses to stop himself from becoming so overwhelmed with the constant information he received with his six eyes. he’d overworked himself that day, as he so often did, hence why you’d dragged him away from the school to the seclusion of the tree. 

your questions about the longevity of your relationship weren’t meant to hold deep meaning, you just wanted to take his mind off of the headaches. gojo would choose thinking about you over the searing pain in the back of his head any day. yaga said that once he had a better understanding of his reversed curse technique it wouldn’t be so bad but until then it was just about riding it out.

gojo snorted at the notion. his reversed curse technique only marginally helped. you were what got him through the days when he’d lock himself in his bedroom with blackout blinds pulled down, hiding under his covers till he felt like he could function in society again.

he didn’t unpause the video, however, instead clicking onto the main tab with all of the files stored. 

lifting up his blindfold and dropping it down onto the desk, gojo took a deep breath before he began scrolling. unlike when the first years were simply searching for the ones with their favourite thumbnail, gojo was specifically searching for the ones he knew focused on you.

he needed to hear your voice again, to play it on repeat until it became so ingrained into his skin he could feel your touch.

gojo halted the cursor over the familiar date of your birthday, clicking on it without a second thought as the video filled the screen. it buffered for a moment, giving him a view of the dorm he’d practically spent three years in (despite yaga’s constant complaints and reminders that dorms were segregated on gender).

in the corner of your room was a stack of plushies that he’d won for you at arcades, and your walls were covered in photobooth photos and polaroids of your group of friends. his personal favourite was the polaroid you had pinned just above your desk. it was the two of you on new years eve sharing your first kiss of the year, sparklers in hand and the faint pink of a firework in the background. on the bottom of the polaroid was haibara’s handwriting as he’d scribbled on the date and a small smiley face.

“happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you!” seventeen year old gojo sung in the video, swaying the camera side to side above a pile of duvet and pillows. you were somewhere in the middle, half asleep and trying to push yourself deeper into the comfort of your bed and further from whatever the screeching was in your room.

you’d never been a morning person whereas he, on the other hand, had a reserve of energy that never depleted. it was what made getting up at the crack of dawn on your birthday so much more entertaining for him. even as an adult, when the two of you lived together in the comfort of your own apartment, he would either force you to stay up until midnight or gently nudge you awake at 4am to tell you he loved you.

“satoru,” you whispered groggily when you gave up trying to ignore his awful singing, lifting your head up just enough to meet his eyes. he would have done anything to see you physically before him instead of watching you through the lens of a camera. to be looked at with love as you did and not a mix of fear and respect. “if yaga catches you–”

“i’m just singing happy birthday to my girl,” his younger self dismissed, plopping down onto the bed next to you. he preferred your bed over his, a softer mattress he used to argue when shoko would complain about him showing up at your shared dorm several nights in a row. that particular birthday, he was pretty sure she’d been sent on a training mission over in kyoto. gojo’s hand came into frame as he ran a gentle hand through your hair, giving it a little pat when you quietly hummed at the contact. “he can’t hate on me for that.”

“yes he can,” you retorted, rolling your eyes with a tired smile. gojo felt his chest tighten – two years without waking up by that very same smile after almost a decade of having it everyday.

“i’ll blame shoko,” gojo shrugged with a grin, kicking his legs up onto your bed, despite your small protest that he was taking up all of your space. like you weren’t just as clingy as he was.

you huffed out a quiet laugh, your elbow digging into your pillow as you rested your head in your hand to stare incredulously at your boyfriend. “shoko forced the strongest sorcerer of the modern day to enter the girls’ dorms? uh huh.”

“woah woah, i’m the strongest of all time baby, i don’t do second best,” he corrected, leaning down to give you a peck on the forehead. you scrunched your nose up at the contact, but even through the viewpoint of the camera, he can see how your eyes dropped down to his lips.

“i know you don’t,” you smiled and gojo dropped the camera down as he moved to give you your first real kiss of seventeen. present day gojo sucked in a breath, willing for himself to get through at least one several minute video of you until he started crying.

the kiss ended all too quickly as gojo shoved the camera back into your face, the flash causing you to squint and squeeze your eyes closed. “now smile and say cheese, you’re seventeen!”

“woo!” you cheered half heartedly, giving in to his infectious excitement. blowing the camera a tired kiss, you shuffled yourself back deep beneath your duvet. “now can i go back to sleep?”

“as long as i can stay.”

“fine,” you dragged out, though you both knew you wanted him to just as much. yaga be damned. the video ended several seconds later and an odd silence filled his office. 

he’d only ever watched several of these videos once or twice – back when he still had you to curl up into his side and reminisce with him and laugh at nanami’s old haircut. if he was being honest, he didn’t even remember he’d recorded that (though he was glad he did).

gojo was more confident this time when he scrolled, his hands no longer shaking as much as they had been as he smiled at the life he once had. a life with you and geto.

this time he stopped at a thumbnail with the three of you; gojo holding up the camera high as the three of you posed like it was a photo. it was at one of only a handful clan events you had attended together, with both you and geto as gojo’s plus ones. he and geto were in matching suits and you were in a floor length dress that he’d spent way too much money on (but you looked so pretty when you tried it on he couldn’t not get it for you).

“hi this is mtv,” you clapped your hands together, “and welcome to my crib.” his younger self waved his hands around in the background (geto was recording), showing off the spiralling architecture that cost more money than fathomable. 

gojo quietly laughed in his office. the politics of clans and these events were the last reason he’d ever chosen to attend them. seeing you all dressed up and running around buildings with a million rooms were right at the top. his favourite had to be when both the first years, shoko and utahime had also been in attendance, but after haibara’s death, hanging around with the clans that upheld the institution that killed their friend seemed distasteful.

“this is my in house art museum collection.” you led geto along one of the vast corridors, pointing into a room with dozens of framed canvases of art from all across the globe. “this is where i come in for inspiration and to truly just feel art you know?”

“i wasn’t aware you had skills beyond stickmen,” geto interjected and you raised both your middle fingers at him.

“art is subjective, di–”

“woah, i have standards to uphold here,” gojo cupped a hand over your mouth, stopping any expletive leaving you. you hummed in annoyance and the white haired sorcerer grinned, nodding his head over to a partially opened door. “we don’t need to argue when we have a whole cinema room to ourselves.” gojo remembered the stain of red lipstick you’d left on his hand when he let you go (you’d refused to kiss him all evening because of your makeup).

the cinema room was massive: rows and rows of sleek leather seats that looked out of place when compared to the aesthetic of the building. this was someone’s home, though it looked like anything but.

“this is my cinema room,” geto held onto the back of one of the chairs as he loosened his tie. he lowered his voice as he leant closer to the camera gojo was now holding. “we used to have two but daddy converted the smaller one into a sauna so now we only have this one,” he said with an upturned nose, and you could be heard giggling in the background at his faux disgust.

you nor geto were from the same wealthy background as gojo was and loved to poke fun at his high status background.

“oi!” an official that was supposed to be watching for any curses or curse users that tried to sneak into the event pointed a light into the cinema room. “you kids shouldn’t be back here!”

gojo laughed, throwing the camera to geto as he grabbed your hand and led you quickly down the stairs to another exit at the bottom of the stairs. geto turned off the recording once he’d grabbed a hold of the device in favour of focusing on not being caught. it wasn’t like there would be any real consequence – they were with gojo satoru after all.

the white hair sorcerer smiled as he thought back to the rest of the night. obviously, you’d all managed to get away – though he had suffered your wrath at the fact your legs weren’t as long as their’s were and you were running in heels. two strikes, but he’d made it up to you by taking you out for ice cream instead of going back to hear the speeches.

it wasn’t an exaggeration to say gojo would have done anything for you then. 

gojo swallowed a lump in his throat as your last interaction came to mind. you were arguing, as you had been in the weeks up until megumi’s birthday as he inched closer and closer to being old enough to enrol in jujutsu high.

the only wish he’d ever refused to fulfil: keeping megumi away from jujutsu.

“he’s our responsibility.” you were yelling at him, desperate for him to understand your point of view and he was walking away. dodging your anger by going wherever his legs took him – anywhere but where you were. “we need to protect him. we can’t protect him if he becomes a sorcerer too.” 

“i can,” he insisted, halting in his place to turn and look down at you. his cursed technique was activated, though there was no need for it to be, and all it did was frustrate you further.

“i nearly died today!” you countered, pointing to your neck with a faint scar. shoko’s reversed cursed technique was almost perfect, but not even that could fully erase the deep lacerations that had almost taken your life. “where were you? you can’t be everywhere and help everyone at the same time. it’s just not possible.”

“i can try.” his jaw was tight as he responded through gritted teeth.

“and if that’s not enough?” you didn’t need to see his eyes to know his were locked directly onto yours, daring you to continue. he wouldn’t hurt you, would never dream of it, angry or not, but how could you of all people doubt him? “what then gojo satoru?” you uttered his full name like it was an insult, “you may be the strongest but he’s not. i’m not. we’re mortals compared to you.”

“you’re my family,” his voice broke.

“yu and suguru were family once too.”

gojo clenched his fists at the memory, at the reminder he walked out after that. you were trying to get him to see your concerns, and he’d taken that as you blaming him for the outcome of your close friends. that was the last time he ever saw you; tears welling up in the corner of your eyes at his insensitivity, at his inability to admit that maybe, just maybe, he too was just a mortal. 

everything you said was logical and made sense – he had almost lost you that day, having not initially received the message that you had needed backup as he was preoccupied with his own mission. by the time he had arrived, the curse had its claws dug deep into your skin and it had taken everything in him not to use hollow purple and bring the entire infrastructure down in seconds.

despite all he’d done to save you that day, he’d still lost you. he’d only delayed the seemingly inevitable by mere hours.

megumi sat up in bed at the sound of two knocks on the door. he highly doubted it would be yuuji since the pink haired sorcerer had only left several minutes prior, saying something about needing to meet panda. 

to his surprise, gojo stood before him, hands in the pockets of his pants as he half smiled at the younger boy. 

“is itadori here?” megumi hesitated before shaking his head. “good,” gojo held up the missing dvd, “we need to talk.”

taglist. @thefictionalcharacterssimp @hana-patata @mor-pheus @leathairs @sh0ek0 @maliakealoha @levisteeacup @g-kleran @stevenknightmarc @n1kimura @darliingyu @saturn-alone @splxtscreen @leah-rose03 @rinshoe @laurenzitaa @patricia142lilian @sabo-has-my-heart @wooasecret @dahliawarner @kysrion @dreamerdeity @mwah-chia @geromiegerald @arminsarlerts @maliakealoha @cherrypieyourface @k4romis @monsieurgucchi @bofadeezs @777userz @polarbvnny @chonkercatto @tenshis-cake @haitanibros0007 @ba-ks @liaurokodaki @urfavvirg0 @lofasofabread @r0ckst4rjk @vee-ai @aiikuraa @melileli0001 @rinshoe @vinivave @yell0wdreams @sukunasleftkneecap @malikazz243 @sad-darksoul @giannitaa @maliciousmace @name-insert @splxtscreen @kimvmarvel @ieathairs @janbannan @ja-zz @vangoes @starringz @ciscob1tes @theoriginaluzisimp @thirtykiwis @vivienne2000 @whydohumansss @purpleguk @simeon-lovergirl @missesgojosatoru @loveroftheoldestdream @mkaiiserr

if ive missed anyone im so sorry send me a little reminder &lt;3

[cookiegirlsstuff]

The Hobi cheer up (pt. 1)

AN: This is part 1 of a series that will consist of 7 parts.I hope you like it!

Lee: Jungkook

Ler: J-hope

༉‧₊˚🖇🖤❀༉‧₊˚.

The door slammed shut with a loud bang and an angry-looking Jungkook stormed into the house.

He didn't even give his hyungs a glance before settling down on the couch.

"Jungkookie are you alright?" Jin asked worriedly as he watched the youngest drink a glass of water in a hurry.

"Yes, of course. I'm completely fine," Jungkook mumbled, although everyone could see that the opposite was the case.

"Bad day?" Yoongi asked, but Jungkook decided to just ignore him.

"Jungkook, if you're not feeling well, you can talk to us," Taehyung assured him.

"I'm fine, why don't you understand that? The training was just a bit exhausting, that's all and now leave me alone!" Jungkook shouted before getting up and disappearing into his own room.

"Yup… he definitely isn't well," Jimin commented.

"But what can we do to help him? He's not really going to let anyone get close to him right now," Namjoon said.

"I think I have a plan," J-hope smirked before quietly whispering his idea to the others.

In the meantime, Jungkook had practically fled to his room and was now lying exhausted on his bed. Lately, everything had become more and more exhausting and he felt like he was letting down everyone else.

Suddenly there was a knock on his locked door and he heard a familiar voice: "Jungkook, it's J-hope. Can you please open the door?"

Sighing, the younger boy shuffled to the door and pushed down the handle. He wasn't really in the mood to talk to the others, but he didn't want to upset his hyung either.

"What do you want?" he asked, his voice sounding more annoyed than intended.

"Jungkookie, that's not very nice. How do you talk to your lovely hyung?" the older one asked playfully.

Slowly, Jungkook was really fed up with Hoseoks childish behaviour and started to get really irritated.

"Shut up," he mumbled. He actually thought that his hyung hadn't heard him, but he was wrong.

"Did you just tell me to shut up?" shouted J-hope in fake disbelief.

Jungkook swallowed.

"I understand that you're in a bad mood today, but with this mood you really need a Hobi cheer up," said his bandmate smiling.

"What's that?" Jungkook asked in confusion, but he didn't have time to think about it because a few seconds later, J-hope was on his hip and had pinned Jungkook's hands above his head.

"Where do I start here?" Hoseok chuckled before lifting up Jungkook's hoodie and running his finger over Jungkook's tummy.

"No hobi hyung…pleahahase don't," Jungkook giggled and tried to free himself.

"Aww such a little baby. And you were just about to tell me to shut up?" J-hope laughed teasingly.

Meanwhile, he had started to trace all his fingers up and down Jungkook's sides and Jungkook was a just a cute and laughing mess.

"I'm sahaharry…..reahally," Jungkook laughed desperately while still trying to get free.

"That won't help you now. And apart from that, you really needed a cheer up my dear Mr Grumpy cat," said Hobi.

"Nahaha", Jungkook yelled or more....he tried.

“Oh but I strongly feel like you needed this,” Hoseok countered, now moving his hands under the younger’s arms. The maknae let out an undignified shriek and burst into even more loud laughter.

“You really are ticklish, Kookie,” he hums. “I didn’t think it was possible to be so ticklish.”

Jungkook immediately turned a pretty shade of pink, darkening every time his hyung teased him like that.

But then came the worst part: J-hope started to move his fingers along Jungkook's tummy in a spinning motion again. But he kept moving it near to Jungkook's belly button…his absolute worst spot!

Until he finally dipped it in. Jungkook's laughter went up another octave, if that was even possible. It was really embarassing but at the same time he could really feel how his stress melted away more and more with every touch of pure affection.

"And…cheerful again?" he asked after a while and finally finished his "cheer up".

"Yes, thank you hyung. I didn't realise how much I needed that myself.

"You are welcome", Hoseok replied before they both set off to the others in the living room.

What do you think? I know it's a little bit short but I tried my best! Which member should get a "hobi cheer up" next? .💜✌

[a-forbidden-detective]

Curious add-ons: Foreshadowing and when subtext becomes text (Part 3)

Squeezing two chapters into one episode can be quite a challenge. One, the continuity is going to be broken. Second, the narrative is going to be rushed leaving some attributes of the characters out.

Where was that scene where Toto mentioned his grandmother bc it reminded him of Ron’s fave tv program or him (mis)stepping again on the cat?

But at the same time this is also a chance to edit out or fine-tune some panels that might not affect the whole story. Or probably make another story altogether.

Like this entire scene for example. It is amusing that the anime writers chose to make the shooting star invitation appear already in the beginning of the episode, which Toto forgot to tell Ron after seeing the latter’s pink grapefruit eyes. The bloodshot eyes deeply concerned him only to find out that the culprit was Ron’s discovery of the wonderful world of the TV.

Unlike in the manga, where Toto has no idea, who the sender was, In the anime he knows the sender but not well enough. So anime writers, what are you up to? It could be for logical reason. As a police officer Toto should not be trusting of any unverified letters sent to him, which the manga just set up bc Akira wrote it.

Or, hear me out, if you are reading the manga or have read this chapter, this is going to be another setup for Ron. Another angst-filled one at that.

Then the invitation appeared again during the last 10 minutes or so, without the disturbance of a TV crew who, in the manga showed up during the duo’s dreadful/anxious moments. Ron, immediately ceased the invite and decided from then on that they must go there. No time for verification.

Toto has the invitation all the time with him in the anime and is holding on to it till he finds the right moment.

At first glance, the premise is Toto visits Ron to ask if the forbidden detective wants to be his plus one. Isn’t that thoughtful of Toto? It sounds so romantic, isn’t it? But what if Toto has an agenda? Or someone has and is only using Toto to get to Ron?

I am curious of the next episode(s). There are five chapters in the manga alone for the succeeding arc.

Anyway, the dialogue in the last 15 minutes or so has changed.

From Chapter 8:

Ron: I... almost ended up killing you. If something like this happens again, and the person I’m solving a case with dies… Forget being a detective, Id be so overwhelmed with despair that I wouldn’t be able to go on living.

From the episode 6:

Ron: “Something like that”? I nearly killed you. If anything like it happened again, and you died I'd despair of myself and wouldn't be able to carry on.

The difference lies that the anime writer has edited out the flowery generalisation but immediately got on with the killer word “you” as in Toto Isshiki.

And this momentous addition:

Toto: Until you can believe in yourself, I'll stick with you! Okay?

So far, my RonToto heart is full. But hopefully, the writer will stick to it until the end.

PS: They might forget Toto’s mention of grandmother but they make sure that he is polite and has good manners saying his apologies again for Ron’s eccentric behaviour.

[real-life-senshi]

10 (Mostly) Spoiler-Free Reasons to Watch Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon 2003 Live Action

A countdown to the 20th anniversary of Act 1 air date!

Reason 10: The three live-action original Senshi!

Technically introducing these 3 Senshi would count as a spoiler, but not introducing them would mean I'm not doing justice in convincing people to give the live-action a try! SO I'M GOING FOR IT.

Still, anything I share here would be introductory, and I won't go into the story surrounding these characters at all. And as I mentioned basically this whole time in this series of posts, the storytelling is where it counts when it comes to the live-action!

Without further ado, I'm starting off with the most iconic original Senshi of them all:

Sailor Dark Mercury - more well-known as Darkury

Yes! We get a villain version of a Senshi! ABSOLUTELY GLORIOUS!

Ami-chan in the live-action is basically the most even-tempered person out there. So imagine the sweetest, MOST kindhearted girl going absolutely apeshit, then you are probably not too far off imagining Darkury's behaviour. And imagine the smartest person you know working against you... now that's one adversary you'd want to avoid!

The unique story surrounding Darkury holds a special place for many fans of the live-action. It's proof of the live-action's amazing writing and unapologetic differences to its original source material, and marks a joy only audience of live-action get to enjoy in the whole Sailor Moon franchise!

Princess Sailor Moon

Princess Sailor Moon is the only alternate/upgraded Senshi form the audience gets to see in the live-action series, since the show only covers one arc so there are no new forms of transformation for the Senshi. Not only she has a harp, but she also has a SWORD instead of a magic wand! HOW COOL IS THAT??!!!!! Senshi with swords/actual weapons and looking fierce is like my favourite thing!!!

She is undoubtedly powerful, and this costume of this form is stunning! I personally really love the pastel pink matched with the midnight blue!

To new viewers of the live-action, don't let the official promo picture of a smiling Princess Sailor Moon or your pre-existing knowledge of the overall franchise fool you into a sense of security of knowing what’s coming though. She is so much more than what meets the eye, and her first appearance in the show is absolutely EPIC!!!!

Sailor Luna

Yes, that is cat ears and a cat tail... Yes, this is Luna.

Luna eventually gets a human form AND a Senshi form in the live-action. It's arguable how powerful she actually is, but she certainly has her moments of cleverness, sneakiness, and... comedy.

My best guess is, that the live-action screenwriting made this version of Luna by pulling in elements from ChibiUsa's early Senshi days - where ChibiUsa often overestimates her strength, and her inexperience puts her in awkward and unhelpful positions for the rest of the Senshi. Even the actress originally thought she was cast as ChibiUsa during the audition process.

In this case though, because Luna fills the role of a trainer and adviser to the Senshi team, so as a Senshi, we see her choice of action feel less amateur in terms of battle instinct and strategy, but her actual strength is certainly secondary to being a true Senshi. The imbalance often causes some unexpected and hilarious results in battle, and no one really knows what to expect and how to react - to be impressed or to laugh!

You can watch the subbed versions of the series at:

Miss Dream Fansubs

Sea of Serenity Fansubs

The series is also on other online streaming sites, but be cautious to only visit them with good adware and firewall installed.

1 last day till the 20th anniversary of Act 1 air date!

Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

[productsreviewings]

It might be alarming to search out that your cat’s usually thick, luscious fur seems to have a bald patch. It might be far more perplexing to hunt out that this patch is seemingly solely on their tail, notably within the occasion you haven’t seen any changes of their conduct. Cats are secretive creatures and generally conceal any causes of illness or harm from their owners. Hair loss can sometimes be missed until an enormous amount has been misplaced, resulting in a reasonably ugly bald patch. This article will have a look at 10 causes your cat is maybe dropping hair on their tail and what you'll be able to do to cease extra hair loss. The ten Causes Why My Cats Shedding Hair on Their Tail 1. Fleas or Totally different Parasites The first cause for cats dropping fur on the bottom of their tail is a parasitic infestation. Fleas can irritate cats, notably if they've an allergic response to their saliva, inflicting them to itch and over-groom the world. This may increasingly set off further hurt to the pores and pores and skin beneath the fur, resulting in ugly scabs and loss. Usually the hair loss may be minimal, with a coin dimension piece missing. On completely different events, a substantial quantity of fur spanning almost half of the achieve can occur, nevertheless, that is an extreme occasion. Watching your cat’s conduct is the essential factor to determining whether or not or not or not your cat has fleas. There are completely different noticeable indicators of fleas or completely different parasites an an infection, along with flea filth (very small darkish brown or pink gadgets in your cat’s coat) and bodily seeing the parasites themselves. Treating your cat for a parasite infestation using topical remedy prescribed by your vet is the essential factor to managing this hair loss. In the event that they're very distressed and itching, your vet might prescribe a short course of steroids or an injection to help relieve the itching whereas the pores and pores and skin heal. This sort of hair loss usually does develop once more. 2. Overgrooming Sadly, cats are creatures of behaviour and may endure stress better than completely different animals. Cats will groom to calm themselves if pressured, nevertheless, they are going to escalate this in another case common conduct to alter into obsession. This may increasingly end in overgrooming and even self-mutilation. So, within the occasion, you uncover your cat obsessively grooming the an identical house although it seems to be in discomfort and there have been completely different indicators of hysteria, they could possibly be overgrooming on account of stress or nervousness. You probably can take care of this in a variety of strategies, beginning with giving your cat a respiration home to de-stress. A great deal of distractions, along with cat toys and scratchers, may additionally help. It’s essential to make sure that there are enough belongings accessible in a multi-cat household, equivalent to water, meals, and litter containers, to alleviate any territorial or resource-guarding stress your cat might face. Lastly, cat-appeasing pheromones can help reduce stress ranges inside the home. Guaranteeing this overgrooming is dealt with sooner pretty than later is important. Your cat might become accustomed to this stage of over-grooming, inflicting a recurring drawback generally called psychogenic alopecia. 3. Allergic reactions Cats can endure allergy signs to the an identical widespread allergens as folks. It could possibly be an allergy to fleas, meals, chemical substances throughout the home, and even mud. It might be tough to pinpoint what exactly is inflicting an allergy, nevertheless, they normally manifest in pores and pores and skin factors equivalent to itchiness and hair loss, along with gastrointestinal factors. In addition to, bald patches attributable to allergy signs are generally accompanied by completely different indicators like itchiness, so taking your cat to the vet and explaining their indicators is the simplest plan of motion.

There are a selection of therapies for allergy signs in cats, along with administration with remedy equivalent to low-dose steroids, along with dietary administration if it is a suspected metallic allergy. Hydrolyzed proteins or novel protein diets are the simplest dietary administration methods; your vet can create a weight reduction plan plan. There are exams accessible that may aid you set up what exactly might probably be inflicting the allergic response in your cat, nevertheless, these are sometimes dear. Confirm collectively together with your veterinarian and insurance coverage protection provider to see within the occasion that they've cowl allergy exams. 4. Fungal An an infection Fungal infections equivalent to ringworm might trigger patches of fur loss in your cat. Ringworm causes spherical patches of fur loss with a recognizable ring of pink pores and pores and skin. Ringworm may be very contagious and zoonotic, which implies it might unfold out of your cat to your self, so good hygiene practices are important when dealing with a cat with ringworm. The sort of hair loss associated to ringworm may be full, which signifies that your entire house in a circle kind is balding or thinning first. The treatment may be given on the vet’s office, and exams will doubtless be used to search out out whether or not or not ringworm is the wrongdoer in your cat’s tail fur loss. 5. Cat Chunk Abscess Cats are territorial, notably male unneutered cats. Moreover, they've dirty mouths, and sadly, they've sharp tooth to fight with. Cat chunk abscesses are very usually found on the bottom of the tail on account of how cats fight. If a cat relinquishes fight and turns to run away, it’s commonplace for the chasing cat to chunk them throughout the once more and tail house. Cat chunk abscesses are formed by the cat’s sharp tooth puncturing the pores and pores and skin and delivering microorganisms from their mouth. Because of the tiny holes that a cat chunk can go away throughout the pores and pores and skin, the ground heals over, trapping any microorganism inside, which could set off an an infection. The physique’s pure safety in direction of the an infection produces pus. This pus build-up beneath the pores and pores and skin sorts a bubble or an abscess which could in the end burst, leaving an unpleasant hole. Hair loss is predicted with cat chunk abscesses; within the occasion, you believe you studied your cat has a cat chunk abscess, or they seem like grooming the world further intently or holding their tail at an odd angle, it might probably be that they’re in ache and need remedy. Taking them to the vet as rapidly as you imagine you studied is essential, as generally abscesses left untreated or drained can flip proper into an additional important systemic an infection that requires antibiotics and even hospitalization. 6. Ache Because of this, cats are stoic, they are going to merely conceal indicators of being in ache, sometimes for a really very long time. Older cats are notably susceptible to arthritis and are predisposed to joint circumstances equivalent to Munchkin cats or Scottish Folds. If a specific house is in ache, equivalent to the underside of the tail, this can set off your cat to overgroom it. Totally different indicators of cats being in ache can embrace: Not desperate to partake in bodily train Not eager to maneuver Crying Behavioural changes Disturbed sleep Changes in urge for meals For individuals who assume your cat is an ache on the bottom of their tail, they could possibly be injured, or within the occasion that they’re older, they could possibly be affected by arthritis. Take them to the vet as rapidly as potential, as there are numerous selections for ache support that may stop the over-grooming. 7. Thyroid Points Cats are liable to a state of affairs generally called hyperthyroidism. It is an sickness the place the thyroid gland (a butterfly-shaped gland throughout

the entrance of the neck) malfunctions and begins to overproduce thyroid hormones equivalent to liothyronine and thyroxine. Overproduction of these hormones impacts a number of the physique’s processes, along with inflicting thinning hair and bald patches. Totally different indicators of hyperthyroidism in cats embrace: Points with their kidneys The ravenous urge for meals and weight discount Excessive vocalization It’s fairly widespread in older cats, so for those who're concerned your cat has a thyroid state of affairs, take them to the vet. It might be dealt with in quite a few strategies, along with remedy and surgical procedures. As quickly because the underlying thyroid draw back is dealt with, the indicators should subside, and your cat’s fur should develop once more over the bald spot. 8. Accidents or Scars In case your cat is a acknowledged scrapper or has had a surgical process that resulted in scars, it might have scar tissue over the world, which has triggered eternal fur loss. It is as a result of scar tissue basically differs from common pores and pores and skin cells and tissues. If hair follicles are destroyed, they cannot develop once more, which implies they'll be an eternal web site of baldness. It'll probably not upset the cat and shouldn’t irritate them. Nonetheless, if you've bought any points, it’s value taking them to the vet to check that each little factor has healed precisely. 9. Genetic Conditions Some cats will doubtless be born with congenital circumstances predisposing them to hair loss. These circumstances are further widespread in some breeds, equivalent to Burmese, Siamese, and Devon Rex, and are attributable to inherited genes or ones which have spontaneously mutated. For example, a kitten may be born with thinning fur that may get thinner as they turn out to be outdated, nevertheless, this usually causes a much bigger house of hair loss pretty than focusing on the tail house. Taking them to the vet and having them checked over is among the easiest methods to search out out whether or not or not a genetic state of affairs is a cause for a cat’s fur loss or whether or not it's one factor further sinister that will doubtlessly be dealt with. 10. Most cancers Lastly, there's most cancers referred to as feline paraneoplastic alopecia, whereby patches of hair fall out absolutely, inflicting bald spots. The pores and pores and skin might also current lesions and peeling, and completely different indicators are associated to the state of affairs, along with dryness, decreased urge for meals, and painful cracks on the pads of the paws. Typically, a lot of the cat’s physique is affected, nevertheless solely the underside of the tail may be affected.  The hyperlinks between most cancers and feline paraneoplastic alopecia aren’t successfully understood, nevertheless, there are some developments that veterinarians have discovered. For example, pancreatic cancers are further susceptible to have the form of alopecia as a sign. Conclusion A cat might lose fur on their tail for lots of causes, nevertheless, most are merely dealt with. Usually, a cat experiencing alopecia of the tail is anxious by parasites equivalent to fleas and mites, or completely different pores and pores and skin irritations, inflicting them to over-groom. Thankfully, the hair normally grows once more in these situations. Nonetheless, for those who're concerned in your cat’s hair loss, taking them to the veterinarian as rapidly as potential is important to lowering any long-lasting hurt to the coat and pores and pores and skin. #Causes #Cat #Shedding #Hair #Tail #Merchandise Reviewings

[thewild--flower]

[Translation] Heart no Kuni no Alice Light Novel ~Sunny Day Sunday~ - Chapter 1

Author: Yukiko Uozumi

Original Work: Quin Rose

Previous chapter - Introduction

~Chapter 1 - Lost Girl~

A cold personality, gloomy, and without charm.

That was Alice Liddell's objective evaluation of herself.

Though one might suppose she was a quiet person because she was gloomy, it was the opposite. 

She plainly said the things she wanted to, and if it was something she could not agree with, even if it was someone who was her superior, she would not yield. From her homeroom teacher's point of view she was a student that was rather difficult to deal with.

However, ever since Alice had become lost in this world that was called ‘the Country of Hearts’, she had come to learn of the existence of countless other ‘problem children’, compared to whom she was quite normal. No, she had a feeling that comparing the world where she had been born and raised to this one was a mistake in and of itself.

‘This is for you.’

‘?’

The pink-coloured cat— or more precisely, the man with pink-coloured ears and tail, casually handed something to Alice.

It was a profoundly cold sensation. For a moment, Alice wasn’t able to judge what it was. It didn’t appear to be a toy, but was unexpectedly rather heavy.

‘What is this?’

‘What do you mean what is it? It’s a gun. A gun.’ He answered as if it was no big deal.

‘You don’t have a gun, do you? I have lots, so I’ll give you one. They’re pretty useful.’

‘I-I don’t need it!’

Alice returned the thing she had been handed, almost throwing it back.

Guns were no joking matter. 

To Alice, a gun wasn’t a convenient item that was useful for her everyday life, but a dangerous weapon, nothing more, nothing less.

‘Hey, why did you give it back?! This isn’t a toy, but the real thing, you know?’

‘That’s why I gave it back!’

Alice protested, while slowly backing away.

‘I don’t need a gun. What would happen if I used it and killed someone!?’

‘? Nothing would happen. Guns are supposed to be used for killing people.’

Seeing Alice’s reaction, he— Boris, shrugged his shoulders as if puzzled.

That’s right. Of course. Apparently, in this world, the value of life was exceedingly low, and criminal behaviours were seemingly a widespread everyday occurrence. It was to be expected that he would carry guns, being that law and order was so bad here not even murder would be charged as a crime.

Compared to the world that Alice had been raised in, this was a world where there was a clear difference in the definition of common sense— that was the Country of Hearts. 

Here, the concept of time was vague, daytime, evening and night all arrived at random, there was no extreme weather, nor did the seasons change. She wondered how much time had passed since she had come to live in this wonderland that did not appear on any map.

Although she ‘lived here’, it wasn’t as if staying was something Alice had decided herself.

More accurately, Alice had been carried away here against her will. By the man with the rabbit ears growing out of his head, Peter White.

Even now she clearly remembered it. It had been a Sunday afternoon, and she had been in the middle of enjoying the usual picnic with her older sister Lorina  in the garden at their house.

As if he had been waiting for the moment Lorina left her seat, Peter had suddenly appeared and gallantly swept her up, diving away with her into a large hole that led to another world. And thus, in the place she had arrived at— Alice, who had been tossed out into the Country of Hearts, with no way to return to her original world, had somehow found a place to reside, and spent her days to reach this current point in time.

However, even now Alice wasn’t sure what kind of world this was, nor for what reason she had been brought here.

For all that she did not know, she had come up with a single theory.

In short, everything that was happening was a ‘dream’, and in reality she was asleep. If that was the case, without thinking too hard about this or that, it was likely best for her to enjoy the present and take it all as a dream.

If she didn’t think of it this way, it didn’t seem likely she would be able to maintain her sanity. Alice’s mind wasn’t so flexible as to be able to simply accept as reality the existence of humans with things like cat or rabbit ears.

‘—And, this is the safety. If you don’t release it, the bullets won’t come out, so be careful. After that, you just need to pull the trigger. Alright? Simple, isn’t it?’

Ignoring Alice’s rejection of guns, Boris continued his lecture.

Handling the dangerous object, his golden eyes sparkled like a child with a favourite toy in front of him.

Though he had a fairytale-like appearance with his cat ears and pink colouring, the truth was he was a hardcore gun fanatic.

Boris Airay. Also known as the ‘Cheshire Cat’, he was a freeloader here at the amusement park. In the Country of Hearts, the three powers,‘The Amusement Park’, ‘Heart Castle’ and ‘Hatter’s Mansion’ were constantly warring over territory. At present, though Alice was staying at Heart Castle, she was just a freeloader, so territorial disputes were nothing more than someone else’s problem. She freely came and went through each area and had built a circle of acquaintances, unlimited by friend or foe.

Both Boris and the amusement park’s owner Gowland welcomed her each time she came to have some fun. Even if she didn’t go to the effort of riding the jet coaster, the go karts, or the ferris wheel, she still enjoyed herself just having easygoing conversations with them like this. To be able to think this way was proof of how accustomed to this world Alice had become.

‘.....Sorry, but I still think I’ll pass. I don’t think guns are something I can use, and if possible I’d prefer not to carry one. I don’t feel as if I could relax if I did.’

Alice spoke gently to Boris who was still recommending the gun to her.

‘Eh-? It’d be more anxiety-inducing not carrying one. You’re really braver than you look. Walking around this country unarmed, it’s like you’ve got a death wish.'

‘I-I don’t want to die either. But what I can’t do, I can’t do, is what I’m saying. Even if I did carry one, it’s meaningless if I don’t intend to use it.’

She was well aware that her way of thinking was naive. In this world with neither law nor police, she couldn’t complain to anyone even if she did end up getting killed. She was the one that had to protect herself. Or—.

‘Or could it be that you have someone doing a good job protecting you?’

Boris narrowed his eyes, and bit-by-bit drew his face closer to hers.

This friendly cat was always freely getting close to her. Even if they were inside the park, it was still a place where a fair amount of people passed by. But as if he didn’t care that people might see, while swinging his long tail, he curled a lock of Alice’s hair around his index finger.

‘Oh yeah, there’s a knight at Heart Castle, isn’t there? It couldn’t be that he’s your knight in shining armor, is he?’

‘Hah? By knight….. You don’t mean Ace, do you?’

She thought of the man in the long red coat, with his suspiciously refreshing smile.

As Boris had said, there was a knight at Heart Castle, where she was staying. His name was Ace.

Though he held a high rank as a military leader because of his physical prowess, she wasn’t sure if he was someone to be relied on, and in any case was a man who was difficult to get a read on.

‘? He’s not?’

‘Of course he isn’t! I don’t know why you’d even bring Ace’s name into this. That guy has nothing to do with me. In the first place, before asking whether he’s protecting me or not, I hardly ever even see him at the castle.’

One of the reasons why he was unreliable, was that he had the characteristics of someone born without a sense of direction. It was already beyond the level of someone who merely couldn’t read a map. He could easily spend thirty hours getting to a place that would take a normal person an hour. At any rate, the current state of things was, he got lost even at the castle where he supposedly lived, unable to even reach his own room.

—Surprised he can even call himself a knight like that. She honestly was fed up with this world.

 Even though she was a freeloader, Alice was severe in her assessment of the people she was staying with. Though she didn’t really see the aforementioned wandering man often enough to be able to call him someone she lived with.

‘Hmm, so not the knight then.’

Boris raised an eyebrow, and continued staring at Alice.

‘If that's the case, what about the Prime Minister?’

‘Huh?’

‘I’m asking you if your favourite is the Prime Minister, then.’

‘..................Huh?’

Alice doubted her ears.

Prime Minister. In other words, the Right Honourable Prime Minister of Heart Castle, she thought he had to mean Peter White. Other than him, she didn’t know of any other person that was called Prime Minister.

‘Favourite….. Wait a moment. Why are we talking about this?’

‘Why are you so bothered? Oh, don’t tell me it was a bulls eye? Uwah…… for real?’

‘No!’

She raised her voice and denied it. For some reason she didn’t quite understand, she had a feeling this was a scenario she absolutely had to deny.

‘I’m not sure what you’ve misunderstood here, but Peter is…… that man is the last person on earth that would ever be my favourite.'

Alice spoke in a low voice, her fists clenched. As if sensing her quiet anger, Boris' face stiffened and he gingerly drew back.

Peter White. The rabbit man with a predisposition for stalking. He should surely never be forgiven for the sin of rudely intruding that peaceful Sunday afternoon.

It was a strange thing, even in a dream, she could get angry, feel lonely and become irritated. In a world with no sense of reality, her emotions alone felt real.

*

Heart Castle, the place where Alice was currently staying, was one of three powers in the Country of Hearts.

The castle with its overly vivid pink and red colour scheme, striking architectural style and grand scale, exerted a dominating and eccentric presence even amongst other structures in the country.

On the castle grounds, red roses bloomed in profusion, forming an enormous labyrinth where the figure of the ruler of the castle, the Queen of Hearts Vivaldi, could be seen enjoying a stroll in the evenings. Though she was well known for being beautiful and cruel, for some reason it seemed she had taken a liking to Alice, and because of that her life at the castle was safe and without any discomfort, there ought not to have been any cause for dissatisfaction…… with one exception.

'Welcome back, my dear Alice!'

The moment she entered the castle, a high pitched voice called Alice's name.

Faster than she could prepare herself, a rabbit man wearing round glasses clung onto her. Such was his enthusiasm, a 'Guhaa-' escaped from her throat as she had the breath knocked out of her.

'Aah, I missed you……! I missed you, Alice! While we were apart, I was so lonely I was about to lose my mind. What a wicked woman you are, truly!'

'.......Your mind's been lost right from the start.'

She vigorously tried to push away his face as it nuzzled her cheek.

However, he did not draw back. No matter how hard she tried to resist, he hugged her tightly. Though she asked for help with her eyes from the soldiers that were nearby, there was no way they would be able to stop the rampage of his Excellency the Prime Minister, and they only looked on as if they felt sorry for her.

Silver hair and red eyes. A checkered suit and a pocket watch. And lastly, white rabbit ears. At a glance his looks were not normal, and as one would expect, he was not normal on the inside either.

'Peter…… I've been telling you from the beginning, don't hang onto me like this. You're being a nuisance. Think about where we are a little.'

Peter White's excessive displays of love were a source of distress for Alice. Clinging onto her was an everyday occurrence, each time he opened his mouth he would repeatedly say, 'I love you', and no matter where she was he would try to follow. There was no other word but abnormal to describe the way he would immediately pull out his gun and try to shoot the soldiers out of jealousy, whenever they were standing around talking together. 

If this had been the world that Alice had been raised in, he was the kind of person that ought to be arrested. However, in this world, he was one of a small number of influential people known as a 'role holder.' No matter who he kidnapped, killed or stalked, he was free to do as he wished, a person of high rank and of extremely bad character.

'To be bothered that other people might see, you're more shy than I thought.'

As Peter chuckled, he continued,

'It's alright, Alice. Come, let us flaunt our relationship to them all!'

'Kyaaah!'

Dangerously on the verge of being kissed, Alice swung her hand high. 

It connected with Peter's right cheek with a splendid and satisfying thwack.

'Owch-! Y-you're so mean, what are you so embarrassed about?'

'I'm saying your existence itself is embarrassing…..!'

How was it this man was always only able to think of things in a way that was convenient to him? 

While she was completely fed up, Peter directed a dreamy gaze towards her while holding his right cheek.

'Heheh….. but I understand, that impressive slap of yours is just another form of your love, is it not……?'

'Hah?'

'You know, don't they often say? Tough love. You're too embarrassed to put your love into words, so you try to express it through your actions, right? Isn't that so?'

He was completely nonsensical.

He had it so totally wrong, she wasn't even sure where to begin.

It was always like this with Peter. And on top of that, was his pushy and over-the-top way of communicating his love. Because there was not even a hint of the concept of 'playing games' in any of it, Alice also didn't hold back in showing her rejection, but still he displayed absolutely no signs of withdrawing. If anything, his lovey-dovey aura only grew all the stronger. Even when she insulted, punched, and kicked him down. 

It was simply futile to try and argue reasonably with someone who did not understand common sense, and recently Alice had half given up. Even if she used up her energy trying to argue with him in a direct way, she had learnt that she wouldn't gain a single thing from it.

'I-I've had enough…… I'm tired, so I'm going to get some rest.'

Pressing her temples, Alice quickly tried to leave the scene.

'Are you returning to your room?' For some reason, Peter's voice sounded cheerful. 

'I've been working too hard, I'm completely exhausted. The working environment at this castle is the worst. Her Majesty is always in a bad mood, and everytime Ace leaves for work he never comes back, my word, they're all a completely useless bunch.'

'Hey, why are you following me!?'

As Alice walked at a fast pace, Peter kept tailing after her. Unable to bear it, Alice broke into a run.

'I said, why are you following after me! Quit it!'

'Why you ask, isn't it because you're running? Why not return to your room a bit more slowly? I think you're needlessly tiring yourself.'

'I'm running because you're following me!'

In order to put more distance between them, Alice ran. She was good at foot races. The sound of their footsteps echoed across the lavish marble hallways. The soldiers doing their rounds, looking startled, opened a path for them, one after the other, as they ran by.

However, even then Peter kept pace with her. 

'Hey, stop chasing after me! Hurry up and go back to work!'

'I don't care about work, they should just feed something so worthless to the pigs. There isn't a single more important thing in this world than spending time with you!'

'You just want to slack off from work!'

Stamp stamp stomp stomp, the two of them continued their close race. However, though Alice was extremely out of breath, Peter was smiling, completely unfazed, as he ran alongside her. It was almost like he was a dog running around the fields with his owner, simple-minded and happy. However, that certainly did not mean she felt like being affectionate towards him.

'What's wrong? Are you tired?'

'Of course I am. Sheesh, who's fault do you-......Hyaaah!'

Alice yelled out as her body was suddenly suspended in the air.

Peter was now holding her in his arms. In the posture of the so-called 'Princess Carry.'

'Wh-what do you think you're doing, you kidnapper! Pervert!'

'Ah, please don't thrash around too much. What would happen if you fell?'

'I wouldn't be in a position to fall if you hadn't picked me up! Hurry up and put me down!'

'But, you're tired, aren't you? Please rest at ease, I shall take responsibility and deliver you to your room. Heheh, I'm stronger than I look, aren't I?'

'"Strong", you say, how rude, I'm not even that heavy…….'

And at any rate even though he had told her to 'rest at ease' there was no way she could. She didn't think there was any situation more nerve wracking than having your stalker see you to your room.

—What on earth was wrong with this man?

Still being carried, Alice directed a gaze of censure at Peter.

Even now she didn't know what he was thinking. Though he had kidnapped her and brought her into this world, it was not as if he had demanded a ransom or hurt her. No matter how much time passed, he merely repeated words of love and didn't try to take any further action than that.

If he was a true stalker that wasn't after money or material goods, even then it didn't make any sense. After all, Alice had not once met Peter in the past, and she could not think of any reason why he would feel so strongly for her. It wasn't impossible that he had one-sidedly fallen in love with her at first sight somewhere, but she didn't think her appearance was so exceptional for that to be the case.

But even so, Peter persistently told Alice, 'I love you.'

She didn't understand it at all. It was perplexing. She had no choice but to take this inconsistency as part of the dream, but even then it didn’t sit well with her.

‘Hey….,’ Alice summoned up the courage to put the doubts she had had over and over into words. ‘Why do you like me so much? We’d never even met before, right? Aren’t you mistaking me for someone else?’

‘No. I’ve known you well for a long time.’

The red eyes behind the glasses narrowed.

Frustratingly, in inverse proportion to his personality, this man’s face, and only that, was rather good looking.

‘And you also know me very well, do you not? Our love has always been mutual.’

‘............’

Not only was he a stalker, but a complete fantasist as well. He was beyond help.

‘Listen, I don’t remember ever meeting you, or falling in love with you, either.’

Though she complained to him, Peter only smiled happily. Somehow, it seemed as if those long ears of his were unable to hear things that were not convenient to him.

Alice sighed.

—Why am I with this crazy guy, I wonder.

Peter was without a doubt a kidnapper, but he did not try to restrict Alice’s actions. He would look lonely whenever she went to leave, but he had never once tried to stop her by force.

In short, if Alice wanted to escape him, she could do so at any time. Rather, from the beginning, the one to choose Heart Castle as her place of residence had been Alice herself. Peter’s will had had nothing to do with it. Now that she thought about it, on top of pulling her into this world, he hadn’t particularly done anything to look after her afterwards. He had simply left her at the place called the Clock Tower, without any detailed explanation of this world or any assistance with daily necessities.

It had taken her this long, but now that Alice thought about it, for all he talked so much about loving a person, his lack of responsibility towards her was somewhat suspect. 

She didn’t pretend to understand the thought processes of a criminal, but supposing it had been a crime of love, it wouldn’t be out of the ordinary for him to confine or keep her under his watch. If he did not, then kidnapping her was meaningless.

……And so, in the end, not sure what to do after having been halfway left to her own devices, she had chased after Peter, found out his location, and chosen to live under the same roof as him. Though she had been reluctant, she hadn't anywhere else to go, and she had thought that surely he would know the way for her to return to her original world.

However, even now she had been unable to return to her world, and was still stuck in limbo to this day.

If this was a dream, it was one that had gone on for far too long. It was a long running dream. She thought that it was about time it came to an end, but as of now there were no signs of it doing so. It was highly unlikely that the dream would continue on forever, but while it still did, it wasn’t like she didn’t worry over it.

‘......Peter.’

‘What is it, Alice?’

The rabbit man was dashing through the hallways, looking happy. There was no ill will in his smile. If it was just in appearance, he was a genuine pure white rabbit.

‘Why don’t you have any intention of returning me to my original world?’

It might be a stupid question to ask of a stalker. But she couldn’t give up. Because this wasn’t the world she should be living in.

‘Do you wish to return to your original world?’

‘Of course I do, I’d want to go back right now if I could!’

Alice retorted with raised eyebrows at his shameless question. But even then his expression remained unruffled.

‘Hmm~? That’s strange. But are you not always able to go back anytime you wish, if that is the case?’

‘......Hah?’

‘If you truly wish to return, you can go back at any time, Alice.’

‘Don’t mess with me. As if you can say that, when you were the one that kidnapped me.’

‘Dear me, I am not messing with you.’

Peter continued as if sulking.

‘To return, or not return. That is the game you are playing. It is all up to you. While it is unfortunate, there is nothing I can do.’

*

—What’s unfortunate is that head of his.

Even if he told her it was a game, Alice had no idea what that meant. She had no memory of becoming a player, and it was not as if she were holding any cards. However, the residents of this world uttered the words ‘game’ and ‘rules’ at every turn.

It was ridiculous to be playing a game without knowing the rules

She very much felt like complaining to someone. But then Alice suddenly realized. …..What did she used to do at times like these? Whenever she had a problem, did she ever talk to anyone about it? The faces of her female classmates vaguely floated into her mind, but there wasn’t anyone in particular that she thought of. As she thought about it more, Alice, with her cold personality and plain way of speaking had often ended up in the role of listener, rather than being the one confessing her troubles.

—But, I used to talk about a lot of things with my big sister.

Her older sister Lorina. Ever since her mother had passed away due to an illness, though her sister had taken on the clear role of guardian, she had always been a good sister and friend to her as well. In front of her sister, she was able to show an unreservedly relaxed expression that she wouldn’t normally show to her classmates.

However, as to whether she was able to speak to her sister about anything at all— the answer to that was no.

She loved her big sister, but all the more because she was her beloved big sister, there were things she couldn’t talk about in front of her.

Each time the number of such secrets increased, she would look lonely and often say to Alice,

‘You’re no longer a child. To have secrets you can’t tell your family means you must be pretty grown up now, right?'

*

‘......So then, why come to me?’

As he looked at Alice’s face, the man with eyes the colour of dusk was clearly displeased.

She was at the Clock Tower, located at the centre of the Country of Hearts. Its master, commonly known as the Clockmaker— Julius Monrey, gave her a brief glance, then returned his gaze to his work.

‘That's a good question, though I’m not quite sure myself……’

‘Hah? What’s that supposed to mean? I have no business with you. Hurry up and go back home.’

At this point, Alice understood his personality well enough that she did not feel hurt. For him, ‘Go home’ was just a set phrase that he would say in place of a greeting. Or, at least that was how Alice had decided to take it, when she would sometimes wander over to visit this obstinate and gloomy man at the Clock Tower. While knowing that he would curtly dismiss her whenever she showed her face.

‘I climbed all the way up here, you could at least show a little appreciation.’

‘No one asked you to come. If you need someone to talk to, there are plenty of people at Heart Castle. The lost knight, the heartless queen, the crazy rabbit, pick whichever one suits your fancy. Leave me out of this.’

He’d told her to choose one of them, but weren’t those rather slim pickings? She didn’t really want to say it of people who she was indebted to, but there wasn’t a single normal person among them.

‘......Hm, but Vivaldi was easier to talk to than I had first thought. She seems scary, but has an unexpected cute side to her.’

Alice said to herself.

There were times when the Queen of Hearts, who was famous for her highhandedness and cruelty, showed Alice a smile like that of a young girl. …..But then, there were also times when just a few seconds after showing her such a smile, she nonchalantly declared ‘executions’ for her servants.

Peter and Ace aside, she could somewhat be at ease with Vivaldi because she was a fellow woman as well. She was a proud and beautiful person. There were many things she admired about her, but when all was said and done, that brutal hobby of hers was far from normal.

Then, what did it mean to be “normal”? Amongst her few options, Alice thought it over.

At the very least, someone she could have a back and forth conversation with. Someone without animal ears coming out of their head, and who wasn’t always quickly drawing their gun every time she saw them.

Truth be told, there was barely anyone in Alice’s vicinity who met even those few modest conditions. It seemed like a lie, but all the more because it was the truth, she was at a loss.

‘What. Why are you staring so hard at me?’

‘No, it’s nothing.’

Nevertheless, it was still difficult to say outright that Julius was normal. He was only interested in his work, and spent his entire life holed up in the Clock Tower fixing clocks all day long, hardly ever making contact with other people. So complete was his concentration that even food and sleep were an afterthought.

However, as he did not lightly commit murder like the others, relatively speaking, he could be classified as normal.

To begin with, it couldn’t be said that Alice, who was well aware that she was a gloomy and contrary person, had the right to be criticizing other people’s personalities so minutely.

‘Hey, Julius. You’ve known Peter for a long time, right?’

Placing a chair near his workbench, she asked him the question head on.

‘Was he always like that?’

‘......What do you mean “like that”?’

‘I’m asking you if he was always annoying, one-sidedly stubborn and a stalker.’

‘He’s always been the first two, but I don’t know about being a stalker.’

Julius continued while inserting a screw into the clock he was working on.

‘Why are you asking me about Peter White? We’re just acquaintances, it is not as if we’re close.’

‘Of course I know that. Peter doesn’t seem like the type to have close friends.’

Like this, even while acting as if she was a bother, Julius would go along with Alice’s conversation. Fundamentally, he was a kind-hearted person.

‘If you already know, all the more reason not to ask me. ……Good grief, is there something wrong with you? Why would you come to me for love advice?’

‘......Wait a moment.’ Hearing words that she could not overlook, Alice directed a stern gaze towards Julius. ‘Did you just say “love advice”?’

‘? What about it?’

‘What do you mean “what about it”? Don’t get the wrong idea!’

She slammed her hands onto his desk with a bang and protested.

‘Why would I be asking for love advice…..?! And in the first place, who are you saying is in love with whom?!’

‘You sure are a noisy one. Of course I’m talking about you and Peter White. If you just want to brag about your love life, go somewhere else.’

‘~~~~~~~~~!’

Wondering exactly what he had heard to think she was after love advice, Alice was indignant. She was so indignant, she had trouble speaking. His interpretation was so completely the opposite of the actual situation, she felt like her head was spinning.

‘Julius…… it’s not as if you don’t know what that guy did to me, right? When I was first brought into this world, you saw part of what happened, didn’t you?’

Alice, having been pulled in by Peter into a hole that had suddenly appeared in the garden at her home, had come out onto the top level of this Clock Tower before she had even realized it. The one who had also happened to be there at the time was none other than Julius, the person currently sitting before her.

‘Just remembering it pisses me off. …..That jerk, making me drink that weird medicine……’

Shaking in anger, Alice gripped the vial she had tucked away in the pocket of her apron dress.

When they had arrived at the Clock Tower, the first thing Peter had done was make her drink the contents of the vial via mouth-to-mouth.

Mouth-to-mouth.

In other words, he had kissed her.

Of all things, it had not been enough for him to just kidnap her, he had also forcefully stolen her lips as well.

Alice had gotten her revenge for the time being, giving him a good punch in the face, but her anger had not yet completely abated.

What effect had the medicine had on her body, and for what objective had Peter made her drink it?

The answers to those questions were still a mystery, but after he had made her drink it through his mouth, he had definitely said,

‘This is the medicine of Heart. Now that you have drunk it, you must participate in the game. Until you have gathered enough hearts to fill the amount you have drunk, you will not be able to return to your original world.’

The details of the game he had proposed were certainly deranged, befitting of a deranged rabbit. Was there anyone alive who would simply agree and answer, ‘Why sure I will!’ when ordered to ‘Drink the medicine of hearts in the Country of Hearts and gather hearts’?

‘............’

‘What’s with you since just now? Stop looking at a person as if you’re holding a grudge.’

‘It’s not “as if”, I really am holding a grudge,’ Alice immediately snapped back. ‘.....When Peter forced his kiss on me, you were right there but didn’t do anything to stop him. You’re terrible.’

‘Wha-……you’re still holding something like that against me?’

Julius sighed with a worn out expression on his face.

Alice knew all too well that her resentment was unjustified. It was Peter who was at fault, and there was no wrongdoing on Julius’ part. It was just that since long ago and even now, he had decided that he would remain a bystander.

‘I told you before. I have no interest in the relationship between you and the White Rabbit. Don’t hold a grudge against me, but the turn of events that led you to be loved by such a troublesome man.’

As she thought he might, he sharply detached himself from the situation.

Julius’ stance on the topic would not waver. Despite the Clock Tower’s position in the center of the Country of Hearts, he did not involve himself at all in the territorial disputes. With the approach of maintaining his independence by not making himself anyone’s ally, not pandering to others was Julius’s way of life.

It wasn’t quite possible to say the Tower was a complete safe zone, but in this place, time passed more quietly and peacefully than anywhere else. That was likely the reason she kept coming here, undiscouraged by the harshness of its master.

‘You’re still the same as ever, Julius. But I feel relieved.’

Shrugging her shoulders, Alice smiled.

Being pushed away made her feel at ease. This kind of treatment suited her just fine.

Alice knew she didn’t have the kind of personality people found easy to like. In the real world she thought her personality was almost the ruin of her, always somehow or other causing strife in her personal relationships.

However in this world everyone was kind to Alice, and held unconditional good will towards her. She couldn't help but feel a sense of unease at an environment that was so excessively convenient for her. Even though it was a dream…… No, all the more because it was a dream, it was futile. Perhaps it was like this because deep within her unconscious mind, she wanted to be loved by everyone.

A personality that is beloved doesn't suit me. I'm different from my big sister.

Even if I were upside down, I can't become a pure person like my sister. And so for now, she didn't need to be loved by anyone. Like or dislike, a crush or love, for the time being, she wanted to live at a distance from such emotions.

'You're really a strange one. The Castle or the Amusement Park must be much more fun for you than a gloomy place like this.'

Julius murmured while looking slightly fed up. His seemingly fussy look softened a little.

'.....But, don't get used to this place. That is, if a part of you still wishes to return home.'

After saying this, he at last closed his mouth and ceased to speak.

*

Since Julius was now fully immersed in his work, Alice had no choice but to leave the Tower.

The day time period was always good weather. It was never windy, and the sun equally blessed the trees and flowers with its light. It wasn't just during the day, this world's weather always maintained a comfortable temperature, neither too hot nor too cold.

As Alice came out of a path from the forest, which twinkled with the light of the sun spilling through the gaps in the trees, she could hear pleasant music.

As if lured by the sound, her footsteps naturally started to head towards the Amusement Park. The area around the colourful gates was bustling with families and couples. It did not very much look like a place that was part of the territorial wars, but rather a place that looked as if it should be called the picture of peace.

—She didn’t really feel like visiting the amusement park right now, though.

She didn’t necessarily want to bask in the fairytale-like atmosphere of the place, nor did she particularly feel like forgetting her troubles by screaming it out on one of the thrill rides. She simply did not want to return to Heart Castle just yet. Having left the Clock Tower, she had walked on as if to avoid the Castle and its surrounds, which meant she would reach either the territory of Hatter’s Mansion or the Amusement Park eventually.

Alice took out a single ticket from inside her pocket.

It was a visitor’s passport that she had received from Gowland, the park’s owner, some time ago. Not only was she able to enter the park for free, it seemed as if having it allowed her to skip the queues and enjoy any of the attractions whenever she wanted.

—Gowland. That’s right, Gowland.

His real name was Mary Gowland. It truly was an absurd name, however he was one of the people in this world who could just barely be classified as normal.

He was mild-mannered, friendly and helpful. At any rate, he was someone capable enough to serve as owner of the Amusement Park. Unlike a certain Clockmaker, he had a lively disposition for good customer service— although at times he was a little too lively, destroying people’s eardrums with one of the destructively godawful violin performances he was so proud of.

Nonetheless, at his core, he was a good person.

And, most importantly, he didn’t have rabbit ears growing out of the top of his head, and wasn't a stalker. The fact that she was at the point where if someone could clear just those conditions, she would think of them as mostly normal, meant Alice’s standards for what was "normal" had grown quite slack.

‘Welcome, Lady Alice!’

The female employee at the gate called out to her cheerfully. Having visited the Park many times now, she and the people working here had become well acquainted.

‘Hello. Hey, is Gowland here?’

Right now, Alice really, really wanted to have a conversation with someone normal. She wanted to get normal advice from a normal person, and arrive at a normal conclusion.

Whether she had sensed Alice’s modest wish or not, the employee gave an exemplary customer service smile and merrily replied, ‘Yes, of course!’

‘If you mean the owner, then yes of course, he is here~!’

‘Really? I’m glad.’

‘Yes, he’s right over there! See!’

By chance, Gowland was there, just over at the place she was pointing at.

Delighted at her good fortune, Alice went to run over to him, 

‘Gowlan-…..’

She started to call out to him, but then her footsteps stopped.

Gowland was definitely there. However, he was not smiling his usual kind smile. The seemingly composed gaze behind his glasses shone with a dangerous light and his brow was furrowed grimly. His tall and burly figure, which stood out because of the cheerful-looking suit with a motif of musical notes and rocking horses he was wearing, emanated a clearly murderous aura.

‘That bastard…… I’m gonna kill him……’

Alice felt a chill down her spine at hearing such a bloodthirsty sentence.

His figure as he paced back and forth carrying a large rifle was madness personified. Children who sensed this alarming atmosphere began to cry one after the other. Of course, anyone who saw the normally good-natured Amusement Park owner marching about with a face like a demon would want to cry, and to run away. Needless to say, that included Alice as well.

‘......Where did he run off to, that blasted cat! I’m gonna catch him and turn him into cat stew!’

With a man who was currently in a state that was difficult to call ‘normal’ before her, Alice slowly began to back away.

—Ah, that’s right. I forgot. Gowland was this kind of guy.

He was a good person. That was without a doubt. However, for all that he was normally a good guy, his reaction when someone incurred his wrath was far too extreme. The moment he snapped it was over, heedless of the safety of the park’s visitors and employees, he would start recklessly firing his rifle all over the place. Nonetheless, his anger did not subside so easily.

‘Looks like it’s bad timing~! My condolences!’

The employee brightly apologized. For her, it must have been a sight she was used to seeing, but Alice couldn’t yet quite view it so philosophically. She was simply scared.

‘I-I think I might go home after all-......’

—Bang, bang!

‘Kyaaaaaah!’

Hearing gunfire, Alice instantly dropped to the ground and took cover.

A billboard painted with a picture of a clown was mercilessly blasted into the air. The gunfire did not stop there, and all kinds of things, from colourful flowers in the flower beds, balloons, and the glass in the buildings’ windows got destroyed one after the other. The sound of screaming grew louder as the smell of gunpowder in the air grew thicker.

‘Come out, Boris! I won’t forgive you this time! I’m gonna kill you!’

Somehow or other, it seemed as if he was hunting for Boris.

As she was coldly thinking well, in that case it would be nice if he would turn up as soon as possible then so that things would settle down here,

‘Sheesh, he really needs to cut it out. What a pain in the ass.’

‘Yeah, you’re right,’ while nodding in agreement, Alice looked at the man next to her and then her eyes widened.

‘B-Boris!?’

Before she had noticed it, a cat man with pink ears was beside her. As far as Alice knew, there weren’t any other pink-eared cat men other than Boris. And speaking of Boris, he was currently a wanted man.

‘W-wait a minute, Boris…… What do you think you’re doing here?!’

‘What do you mean “what”? Something wrong with me being here? This is where I live, y'know, more or less.’

Boris answered her question somewhat sulkily.

There was nothing wrong with it. There was certainly nothing wrong with him being there, but having him next to her was rather inconvenient. She had a feeling her chances of getting mixed up in something were now very high.

‘By the way, could it be you came here to see me?’

‘Hah?’

‘Truth is, I’ve actually been wanting to see you as well recently.’

‘I-is that so. But, um……’

‘—Boris.’

Feeling a sharp gaze, Alice nervously turned to face the direction it came from.

The thin lenses of his glasses glinted. It was the moment a hunter emitting an aura of bloodlust spotted his prey. His rifle was pointed straight at Boris.

‘You bastard….. How dare you wreck my brand new attraction…..’

‘Uwah, this ain’t good.’

Boris, who had noticed Gowland, uncomfortably shrugged his shoulders.

‘A-Anyway, I didn’t really break it, ya know? That go-kart was so slow, it was totally boring. So I just played around with it a little. I think you should be thanking me, actually.’

‘You turned ten of them into scrap, and you want me to thank you…..?’

Bang bang bang!

Without a moment to spare, the sound of a gunshot reverberated. A bullet passed by right next to where Alice was.

‘Eek…….!’

‘Don’t shoot so suddenly old man! It’s dangerous, ya know?’

‘I am not an old man!’

An additional shot from Gowland’s rifle went off. As Boris contorted his body to avoid the bullet in a way that didn’t seem possible,

‘I call it like I see it. Sheesh, that’s what I hate about old timers, the more decrepit they get the less endurance they have!’

‘All right, you’ve got guts I’ll give you that…… So how about I close that mouth of yours for good!’

At Boris’ words, far from subsiding, it looked as if Gowland’s anger had reached its peak. And as she looked on, dumbfounded, someone grabbed her arm.

‘What are you spacing out for? Come on, let’s leave that old man behind and make a run for it.’

‘Huh? H-hey!’

His pink tail wiggled as it swayed as if in challenge. The chief culprit in stoking Gowland’s anger ran away, forcibly taking Alice with him. 

*

‘—Haah. I think we’ll be safe here now, Alice.’

As they came up towards a ferris wheel within the Park, Boris turned around and smiled proudly.

‘Not even the old man will chase us all the way here. At his age, when it comes to physical strength, there’s no way I would lo-......’

‘Why did you have to get me involved in this?!’

Bam, Alice directed a no-holds-barred punch towards his pink head. Because her attack was so sudden, Boris screamed, ‘Ouch!’ and held his head in his arms.

‘Just a little longer and I could have been killed! You and Gowland can fight all you want, but don’t cause trouble for other people. If you’re gonna fight, go do it out in the middle of the desert or something!’

‘Owie ouch…… Don’t be so angry.’

Without looking particularly ashamed, Boris scratched his head.

‘That old man isn’t an idiot, he wouldn’t let any bullets hit you. When he snaps he’s all over the place, but he never loses himself to the point that he’d hurt an Outsider like you. So you don’t need to worry, it’ll be alright.’

‘It definitely didn’t feel as if I was “all right”  though……’

No matter how good of a person Gowland was, she didn’t plan on being so naive as to completely trust someone she had not known for that long a time. There was still a pretty good chance she could be hit by a stray bullet.

‘And also, stop calling me an “Outsider.” I don’t like it.’

‘?’

‘I’m saying that I have a perfectly good name, “Alice Liddell.” Are you listening?’

‘Ow ow ow ow owwww!’

This time she had pulled hard on his cat ears. She had been so scared just now. She wanted to counter-attack by having him take at least this much in punishment.

‘A-alright, I get it! I’ll call you by your name. I won’t call you an Outsider. Happy now?’

‘I’m glad you understand,’ she said and quickly let go of his ears. ‘I certainly am an Outsider, but being stereotyped like that makes me mad. Feels like I’m being discriminated against somehow.’

“Outsider” was a word that identified those who were visitors from another world such as Alice.

According to Gowland, such extremely rare uninvited guests became lost in this world. In short, from their point of view, Alice was an “Outsider.” In that sense, being called one was not incorrect, however, for someone like her who had been kidnapped here against her will, she was a little reluctant to accept such a name.

‘Discrimination, huh……’

Boris sat down on a nearby bench, and the corners of his mouth lifted a little.

‘So by that you mean, you’ve gotten pretty used to this world, then?’

‘Hah?’

‘But I’m right, aren’t I?  You don’t want to be discriminated against. Doesn’t that mean you want to be treated as a resident of this world?’

The cat with a faint smile on his face, spoke those words, somehow full of confidence.

Obviously, Alice could not agree with his opinion whatsoever. She sighed deeply and sat down next to Boris.

‘Why would you think that?’

‘Eh, so I’m wrong?’

‘Of course. ……I’ve certainly grown used to living in this world. I’ve made a lot of acquaintances, and the people at the Castle treat me well. But that doesn’t necessarily mean I’ve decided not to return to my original world.’

It was often said that home was where you made it, and once she had gotten used to it, this world wasn’t so bad. Rather, she had even felt that it was quite comfortable.

As long as she turned a blind eye to Heart Castle’s over-the-top fairytale-like interior, there was no place more pleasant to have as her place of residence.

But no matter how pleasant it was, her family wasn’t here. Her school friends weren’t here. With all the things that were important to her left behind in the world of reality, Alice wasn’t so unfeeling that she could think it was fine to part with them forever.

‘Hmmm. You’re pretty cold, aren’t you.’

She didn’t need Boris to tell her that, she was well aware.

Although part of her thought that she should immerse herself in this fairytale world and think of it as a dream, another part of her held back. She didn’t have the courage to truly let herself go. Her attitude towards everything was always half-assed.

‘......My big sister always used to tell me. That “You should enjoy the world of stories more sincerely.” Whenever I read mystery novels I can’t calm down and read them through until I have someone tell me the twist and who the culprit is first. That’s the kind of boring person I am.’

Becoming unintentionally critical of herself, Alice slightly shook her head. Such negative thinking wasn’t fitting for the amusement park and such fine weather.

‘You aren’t boring at all. If you’re gonna say that, I’m way more boring than you. Suuuper normal, I am.’

‘......Normal?’

While looking him over from head to toe, Alice tilted her head in puzzlement. She had a feeling that having the kind of taste to declare such an idiosyncratic appearance as normal wasn’t normal in and of itself.

‘Yeah. I’m such an ordinary guy I get bored of myself. So ordinary you’d be shocked.’

‘............’

While Alice was unsure of how to respond, he all of a sudden brought his face close to peer into hers.

All the animals in this world had no sense of personal space. Since they came close to her with an overfamiliarity that was just like that of a pet, Alice couldn’t help but feel bewildered.

‘Speaking of boredom, how’s life at the Castle?’

‘“How” is it?’

‘It’s boring, right? A place like that. I mean, they don’t have thrill rides or a horror house, do they?’

‘W-Well yeah, they don’t have any thrill rides, but it’s not boring at all. It’s so comfortable I almost feel guilty. They’re all good people.’

Alice continued while pulling away from him.

‘......That’s right. Vivaldi and Ace are a bit odd, but they’re not bad people. The only problem one is that man……’

That man. Of course, she meant no one other than Peter White.

If she had one complaint in her luxurious lifestyle as a guest of state, it would have to be the existence of that ‘national-level stalker.’ If not for “that”, her life at the castle would have been very peaceful.

‘By “that man”, you mean the Prime Minister, don’t you?’

Boris asked her with a face as if he understood all about it.

‘You must be having a hard time too. Being liked by a troublesome guy like that. If it was me, I would just shoot him, no ifs or buts. Having him around looks like it would be such a pain.’

‘Yeah, yeah you’re right……!’

Alice’s hands shot out and took Boris’ as she faced him.

‘He’s a massive pain, that guy. Even though he doesn’t even know me all that well he’s always following me around, even when I tell him he’s a bother he never learns, and for some reason he thinks we’re in love, truuuuuuly unbelievable. It’s so absurd. Don’t you think?’

‘W-Well. I suppose so.’

At Alice’s impassioned complaints, this time Boris was the one that looked as if he wanted to pull away.

‘That guy’s unexpectedly pretty stubborn once he’s gotten an idea in his head. Yeah. Really, my condolences.’

‘Stubborn doesn’t even begin to cover it. He’s crazy. That XXXXXX rabbit……!!’

Hearing such unladylike language come out of her mouth, Boris’ eyes widened further.

It seemed as if so much frustration had built up within her that she had ended up using quite vulgar language, the kind that would have her big sister collapse in shock had she heard it, the kind that her normally good girl-ish self would not say.

……However. Having said it, she did feel a little as if she'd gotten something off her chest. Just a little.

She certainly wasn't thinking of putting a round through that White Rabbit's head, like Boris and the other residents of this world would do, that was a bit much. What she really wanted— was for someone to listen to her complain and curse, and for them to sympathize with her. Just like her female classmates used to normally do, whenever something had pissed her off.

With just that simple desire fulfilled, Alice felt unexpectedly refreshed.

'Say Boris……you're more of a decent person than I thought.'

Even as she said it, she knew she was being somewhat rude. Sure enough, Boris raised an eyebrow and said,

'Is that a compliment? Not too sure how I feel about that.'

'Of course I'm complimenting you. I mean, your appearance, Boris, you've got pink cat ears, your hair and muffler are pink too, and your tail…..'

'You mean you didn't think a person who was pink all over could be decent? Haah, you're a lot more blunt than you look. And you seemed as if you wouldn't hurt a fly.'

'I-I'm sorry.'

It wasn't good to judge a person just based on their appearance. And as proof of that, this punk-looking gun maniac cat had shown Alice an unexpectedly normal sympathy. At the very least, he had acknowledged Peter's existence as the nuisance that it was, and had understood the pitiable position Alice was in. 

That alone made her happy. If there was just one person that would acknowledge that her feelings were not abnormal, Alice felt as if she wouldn’t lose sight of where she stood just yet.

‘I didn’t mean it in a bad way. In the world I used to live in, there weren’t any people that had pink hair or animal ears. So when I first came here, I wasn’t sure how to deal with those kinds of things.’

‘Hmm~ And now?’

‘Now……’

She was about to continue and say for now she didn’t hold any prejudices towards animal men, when Boris started to hold her hands tighter.

She immediately tried to free herself, but couldn’t. Boris drew closer to her while grinning as if pleased.

‘H-Hey-’

‘Listen. I’ve thought of a good idea.’ Shaking their held hands up and down enthusiastically, he spoke. ‘You’re having trouble because of the Prime Minister, right?’

‘Well, yeah.’

‘Then, he just needs to give up on you.’

‘If something like that was possible, I wouldn’t be having such a hard time. No matter what I do, he’s never discouraged, that guy.’

‘Really? It may be easier than you think. Like….. You and I could declare that we’re lovers in front of him.’

‘—What?’

Alice tilted her head, and stared back at the golden eyes that for some reason, shone with excitement.

‘Who are you saying are lovers?’

‘You and me,’ Boris repeated himself, as if it were no big deal.

‘If you have someone special to you, even the Prime Minister himself might have to change his tune a little, right? It would be best if he saw that there was no chance at all of you giving him the time of day.’

‘............’

Setting aside any comments she might have on the content of Boris’ plan of action, she could see that it did make a certain amount of sense.

It was possible that the reason Peter’s passion had yet to abate, was that he still had a ray of hope regarding a relationship with Alice. Although Alice, for her part, did not at all remember doing anything that would have caused him to have any such hopes.

‘It may be as you say, Boris.’

‘Right? So then……’

‘But I can’t.’ Alice stated her refusal point-bank. ‘Much as I would like to do something about Peter, I don’t really want to tell a lie like that. Even though you went so far as to think up a countermeasure to help me, sorry.’

It wasn’t as if Alice necessarily felt guilty about lying. She simply didn’t feel as if she had the confidence to do a good job of it. Getting their stories straight beforehand, conducting herself so there would be no contradictions, just thinking of the effort it would take to get her mind around all the details made her head hurt. Frivolous lies only caused more trouble.

‘......Uwah. You really are such a square.’

Boris sighed as if exasperated. He was probably thinking she was rather inflexible.

‘And anyway, I’m not saying we should lie. We should just make it the truth, and not a lie. If we’re lovers for real, there won’t be any problems.’

‘Huh?’

Alice frowned. What was this cat saying?

There very much were a lot of problems with what he was saying. A whole bunch of them. She didn’t think he was being serious, but for a pickup line it was too thoughtless.

'Well, for now, whether it's true or not doesn't matter. It'd be better if it was for real though.'

'Um, I appreciate the thought, but I don't plan on-'

'No need to worry. I'll make it good.'

In high spirits, Boris gave Alice a wink.

'I was getting sick of hunting mice, so it's good timing. Sometimes it's good to play with a different kind of animal.'

Next - Chapter 2

[obeysalsaverde]

OM head canon - Giving you a bandaid

Head canons for the OM characters giving you a bandaid for a small cut! It's mostly fluff with a teeny bit of angst woven in there.

Lucifer

It's just a sensible, totally standard bandaid. But he keeps one on hand just in case you need one. He must take good care of the exchange student, after all.

"Come here, MC. Show me. Alright, hold still."

He'll gently place the bandaid where it's needed, but his hand will linger there a moment longer.

"There. Be more careful next time," he says with a serious look. But then a smirk lifts the corner of his mouth. "I expect that you will make a full recovery."

Mammon

The bandaid has a pattern of little Grimm coins. He says they're lucky bandaids. But he'll claim that he only had them on hand in case you needs one, since he's your guardian.

He'll gripe about how fragile humans are as he grabs the injured limb and applies the bandaid.

"Jeez, whaddam I gonna do with ya, huh?"

He acts like taking care of you is such a hassle, but you can tell how worried he is about even a little papercut just from the way he keeps looking at you.

Leviathan

The bandaid has Ruri-chan print on it. You are not surprised.

He totally feels like an anime protagonist as he covers the little cut with the bandaid. He also feels like this is normie behaviour. This is conflicting.

"You know, you're the only person I'd do this sort of normie thing for. Hm? Of course I have Ruri-chan bandaids! I could never call myself an Otaku or a true Ruri-fan if I didn't buy these the moment I saw them!"

He blushes a lot but is secretly really smug that he got to help patch you up.

Satan

Has cat themed bandaids. He tends to get scratches if he plays with a boisterous kitty who hasn't learned not to scratch yet, or if he needs to rescue a cat that is scared because it's stuck somewhere and it can't understand that he's trying to help. So it's worth having some bandaids with him.

"Your skin is far more delicate than mine," he says as he slips the bandaid over the cut. "Try to be more careful next time, okay?"

His hand lingers over the bandaid after he smooths it out. He gives you a serious look, like he worries for you so much when he remembers just how fragile humans are.

Asmodeus

There are no patterns, but all of his bandaids are a shade of pink. He's got hot pink, pastel pink, barbie pink . . . Which pink would you like?

Makes sure to touch you as much as possible when he applies the bandaid for you. Stroking the skin around where you're hurt with gentle fingers.

"Here, Asmo-chan will kiss it better for you. Mwah~" He presses his lips over the bandaid and then winks at you. Then he gets a more serious look. "But do be more careful! You don't want to end up with scars!"

He gives you some extra kisses for good measure. They are not necessarily anywhere near your injury.

Beelzebub

You're kinda surprised that it's just a standard plain bandaid until he explains that he did buy some with little burger patterns on them, but . . . he ate them. 🤦‍♀️

His fingers are so big, he struggles to open the bandaid, but he's determine to take care of you. He doesn't want to hurt you more, so he is extra careful when he applies the bandaid. He gives you the brightest most genuine Beelzebub smile when he's done.

"There, all better," he says. He probably pats your head when he stands up and he'll definitely invite you to get a snack together.

Belphegor

He's got little cows printed on his bandaids. If you snicker at this, he will give you a challenging look as if daring you to make fun of him.

He is pretty quiet while he puts the bandaid on, like he's brooding, but he's gentle. His hands linger over the place he applies it and he gives you a firm look.

"Be more careful. I don't want to see you get hurt ever again."

He looks away quickly. You know he's referring to his own crimes, despite how long ago that was and how close you've grown since. Cuddles are now required.

Diavolo

He has so many cute patterned bandaids because he found out about them when he was preparing a human friendly first aid kit to keep at RAD. His personal favourite is the yellow one with the black Batman logo.

He treats getting to apply the bandaid like a bit of fun, though he is careful to handle you gently and make sure it sticks properly.

"Now, you put one on me too, so that we match!" he says with excitement, providing access to the same spot on himself.

He'll make sure to show Lucifer as soon as possible. "Look Lucifer, MC and I match!"

Barbatos

Has a full human friendly first aid kit hiding on his person at all times. This butler is prepared for anything. He opts for the bright blue variety often used in food preparation settings. He's practical like that.

He'll assess the cut carefully and make sure it's clean before he applies the bandaid. He does it like an expert, but then he makes you meet his gaze.

"Do be careful in future, MC. You are quite precious to all of us."

Simeon

He has cute puppy dogs on his bandaid.

"Don't tell anyone, but I chose these with Luke in mind," he confides with a gentle laugh.

He hums to you while he applies the bandaid and then presses his lips so softly over the top and smiles.

"There, much better. You'll be good as new in no time."

Solomon

The bandaid he gives you has little stars on it and he's enchanted it to help your cut heal faster.

"I haven't had to do this for another human in a long time," he says. There's a strained look on his face after he says it, but it is gone just as fast as it appeared. You recognise his grief, but you don't say anything.

He places the bandaid on your cut a little crooked, but it gets the job done.

"Some day, I'll show you how to enchant a bandaid too," he promises.

[wri0thesley]

Imagine creepy roommate Tomura moves in… you’re stating to feeling watched… underwear vanishing for no reason… and the tiny led on your computer cam keeps blinking since you pleaded him to repair it… only to be told you that it’s “normal for that model to do that”.

And then you’re starting to find a “weird substance” on your sheets and pillows that you immediately brush off as drool or something like that.

And everytime he cooks ramen it’s always a little too salty for your tastes.

cw: not sfw text, voyeurism, general creepy behaviour

creepy roommate tomura . . . please. everything you own is so fresh and pretty! all of your plates are floral-patterned and you always look so concerned about him, even went out of your way to buy him some lotions for sensitive skin and place them delicately beside his 3-in-1 (shampoo, conditioner, and body wash!) in the bathroom, not making a big deal out of it. your clothes all smell like some kind of sweet laundry detergent; even your laptop is pink with cute stickers all over it (if he is begrudgingly impressed by your steam library; that just makes him think of you wearing a pair of those cat-ear gamer girl headphones sitting on his lap).

it's your fault, for being so sweet and nice and probably just as much of a bitch as everyone else has always been to him, deep down inside. which is why all of your underwear keeps going missing. which is why you have to replace your (cute, floral, patterned) pillow cases so often. better hope you didn't have any nudes on your laptop or in your cloud! better hope you're not mindlessly browsing anywhere that sells more . . . adult items. you leave your laptop on one night, whilst you sleep, playing some asmr white noise video to try and help your restless dreams, and tomura spends eight hours staring at your body in a skimpy pair of pale blue silk pyjamas and listening to the soft huffs you make as he's pretty fucking sure you have a wet dream.

the ramen is his one attempt to be a 'good' roommate, because he spends most of his time in the dark cave that passes as his room (you occasionally knock on his door, chirp that you bought some more of his favourite snacks and favourite energy drinks, that you're going to do the vacuuming in about a half hour and you're sorry about the noise - and all of his guild chuckle, make jokes about how he's such a pussy for not just jumping your bones right there and then.) you smile at him and say something sweet about how you don't mind doing the cooking, not mentioning the lingering aftertaste of the ramen - you tell him it's nice to be making stuff for two people! (sometimes you bake, and tomura lopes into the kitchen to see you wearing an apron and smelling like vanilla and he hates that the sight of you bent down and domestic and asking him teasingly if he wants to lick the spoon makes his cock throb in his sweatpants.)

maybe a few of his guild friends get sent pictures, taken from your laptop - the ones you wouldn't have wanted him to see (but tomura knows how to go digging around in deleted files). maybe he gets a little pissy when dabi sends back a long rambling diatribe about what he'd do to you if you were his roommate, and how tomura's pathetic--

he guesses he is, when he jerks himself off with his face buried in a pair of your panties and a picture you'd sent to an online paramour of you on your knees with your mouth wide open and tongue stuck out (a paramour that you thought had simply ghosted, but that tomura had actually helpfully warned off with a threat of doxxing and leaking his own nudes) on his phone as he secretly kind of hopes you'll walk in on him--

[mrpenguinpants]

Diluc: Comfort HCs

Oh no worries anon! We’re getting through everything and I can just see the top. I’m not sure if people saw it - probably not - but my entire blog has devolved into “See this genshin character? Animal.” and I refuse to have another cat character so I’m making Diluc a hawk.  

Apparently (maybe) Diluc’s bird is a nightingale [voicelines]. But I don’t really see Diluc the kind of guy to serenade you at night in secret because your father doesn’t approve of your marriage.

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Today’s appreciation post goes to fulltimeventisimp. Tumblr throws a goddamn fit when I try to tag people (even though I literally have a tag list but that’s apparently not good enough) so I hope you see this^^ You’ve been so nice and caring to me I feel so soft 😭 and I hope you’re doing alright! I’m remembering to take breaks and rest  💕💕

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Semi Part 1: Relationship HCs [I would read this just for the last point]

Diluc Ver: Jealous HCs

[Masterlist]

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[taglist]  <- if you want to be added, please read this first.

@hanniejji​  @mikeysbike​ @unionwitch​ @musekala​ @twistedsunnshiii​ @stanzastic​ @akaasea​ @xoneaboveallx​ @adoring-ghost​ @asheseiler​ @childelover​ @dilucsz​

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Diluc: Comfort HCs

Diluc has always had either an aloof or professional persona based on who he needed to talk to. In both cases, no matter the subject or how Diluc talked, there would always be some sort of forced distance so no one would mistaken it as familiarity or friendliness. There were only a two cases where he felt comfortable and those were with close friends and his staff. The third case being Kaeya but Diluc prefers to not acknowledge him and stashes that folder away. Even with friend’s such as Jean or Elzer, he could never really relax and let his true feelings slip until you burst into his life. Literally. “An unexpected outcome of an experiment,” is what Albedo had told him but regardless, since you entered his life he’s let himself regress into his younger days and let himself take for once.

Maybe that was why you had gotten so used to Diluc’s touched starved self that, when it was suddenly gone, you were feeling uneasy. Lately Diluc seemed to be spending longer hours at his desk or working at the tavern. You knew that he was just busy and there wasn’t any underhanded reasoning behind it, Diluc wasn’t that kind of guy. But did he seriously have to spend every waking moment, day or night, talking to the same people? When was the last time you saw him for more than two minutes? Diluc isn’t a big fan of idle talking but would it seriously hurt just to catch up? You didn’t even get together to have your weekly chess matches too.

You didn’t consider yourself a very clingy person and you knew what a relationship with Diluc was going to be like so why were you getting so bothered? You decided to take the situation in your hands and go visit him at the tavern only to see him so busy at work. It both made you a bit huffy, you wanted to storm in there and drag the man away from his work so he could stop trying to speed run life - not like that would ever happen because the second hand embarrassment would make you dissolve into the ground and you could never show your face to Diluc if you actually did that - but also making you more upset. Here he was, working and running his business, and you couldn’t go at least a couple weeks without seeing him. You ended up turning around and going home to scream into your pillow and sleep the heavy feeling away.

Your inner turmoil seemed to seep out into the open that Kaeya felt the need to bring it up. As much as Diluc dislikes Kaeya around you, he really does care about you and he still does owe you for the troubles he gave you when you first started going out with Diluc. He catches you while you’re off running errands and manages to coax you into getting some lunch with him. You’ve been bottling up your feelings so much that when Kaeya shows some concern you let it all pour out. At this point you don’t care if it’s Kaeya of all people you’re confessing your feelings to, you just want to get it off your chest because the man you’re in love with doesn’t seem to notice you’re actually there and it’s making you feel insecure about yourself. Kaeya gives you a sympathetic smile and tells you not to worry about it, he’ll personally knock some sense into Diluc.

Diluc’s been hard at work on another possible Fatui plan and business with the winery that he can’t help but feel that he was missing something. Was he overlooking something? He had planned this for a while so everything should be perfect. It wasn’t until Kaeya himself had to walk in, press his hand on the tavern counter, and call him an idiot that he realizes that he had been so wrapped up in his work and personal duties that he completely neglected you. He quickly passes his duties to Charles with a quick apology, throws his coat on, gives Kaeya a very strained thank you, and he’s out the door to find you. He’s already lost so much so he’ll be damned if he looses you. Not right now. 

You gave him the key to your home after a few months of being together, in case his he needed to temporarily hide should his night activities get the best of him. He’s already at your door in seconds as he quickly unlocks and steps in. 

“Beloved?” he softly calls out to not accidently scare you but he receives no reply. It’s dark inside but he can see your shoes at the door so he knows you’re inside somewhere. He softly closes and locks the door as he hangs his coat up. Carefully running a hand down the fabric and beside your coat as he looks around your small home. He’s always felt it was warm even when you weren’t here. The “home” he has will always be the place he grew up in but after everything that’s happened, he feels a bit alienated in there so he always appreciated that you lent him a key.

He catches the sound of some shuffling and follows the sound to see you under your blankets. He breathes a quick sigh of relief that you weren’t in any danger as he carefully circles around your bed before gently placing a hand on your back. He’s never been good at words or communicating his feelings so he’s at a bit of a standstill. Despite his reputation of being a nobleman of high esteem, you’re his first serious relationship. As far as he’s concerned you’re going to be his only relationship for that matter.

“I...apologize for my recent behaviour. It was never my intention to hurt you. I ended up letting myself get too blinded to see you were in pain and that was my fault. You don’t have to forgive me now but won’t you let me see your face my love?” he asked in all his awkward pose, put him in front of massive event and he’ll perform with flying colours but put him in front of his partner and he stumbles over his worlds like a new born fawn. But it seems to bring a small laugh from you as you peek from under the covers. 

He smiles softly as he sees your ears flush pink. No matter how many times he calls you that you always get so shy, he adores it. But he can feel the guilt rise up in his chest, you’ve always been there to support and reassure him that he was doing everything right. That things were going to be okay when he re-took his father’s business and you would be with him every step of the way. So in the best and awkward way that Diluc can manage, he tells you this. By the time he’s done he can feel his own face start to pink but it’s made you feel better so it was worth it. 

“Feeling better?” he smiles softly as you nod up at him as he lays down beside you, opening his arms in comfort, “Good, come here.” 

You shuffle closer to him as he holds you. It’s been awhile since he’s held you like this and even without realizing it, he’s missed this. Just you and him together, basking in each other’s presence. No work that needed to be attended to. No Fatui trying to cause him any more trouble. It was a safe place and one he didn’t want to let go.  

“What if we got married?”

There’s a beat of silence. 

Then a thud. 

You end up scrambling and falling off your bed face first. It’s a bit silent as you give off a pain groaned and climb back up and he can see your face has exploded red. He can almost see steam coming off as you try and nurse your nose. He blinks a bit at you taken aback as you stutter and scream into your hands as your brain seems to process what he just asked. You lift your face from your hands to look at him, somehow go even redder, and scream louder into your hands. He’s not sure if this is something he should be offended or concerned about but the weight he had been feeling earlier starts to fade away as a new and familiar feeling bubbles up. For the first time in half a month, Diluc let’s out a laugh as he tries to console you as you manage out a yes.

---

Gripping my writing hand why is no one stopping me? Diluc you’re literally acting like Childe rn. [if anyone is confused ahem Childe: Fiancé HCs (should be in my masterlist)]

Also, I continue to look away from the lore. Kaeya and Diluc are not on the best of terms but if they can have petty rich lady wine talk then Kaeya can walk in and call Diluc an idiot.

I was serious when I said that I researched hawk behaviours. I have learned the internet is horrible in telling me how hawks behave. But I did find this and I found this hilarious:

In the case of the red-tailed hawk, for example, the pair soar, screaming at each other; then the male dives at the female, who may roll in the air to present her claws to him in mock combat.

[padfootdaredmetoo]

Hi!! I was wondering if maybe you could write a Wade x plus size reader? Maybe she’s an ex pro thief and gets put with him for a mission or smth?? I got no idea man just have fun with it aye

Thank you for the request!!!!! Sorry for the wait!

I wasn't sure if you wanted it to be dirty or not so I sectioned that part off in case it's not what you're looking for :)

You are my first ever request! So, thank you, thank you, thank you, and I hope you enjoy it <3

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Thieving, being exceptionally attractive while doing it. Wade on his best behaviour, Smut is sectioned off.

You haven't accepted a mission in 4 years.

You got out of the business and left those “friends” and “friend circles” behind you after you scored your dream internship. 4 years and you were running your own team and writing a semi successful blog. It was a quiet life, and you enjoyed it immensely. You liked your team members, and you felt they found you a fair and caring boss. Your cat Mr. Sparkles was a healthy weight and had finally committed to using the litter box.

You don't know why you answered when he called you, you don’t know why you agreed to such fuckery. But here you were pulling out a familiar black box out of the bottom of your cluttered closet. You picked it up and placed it on your bed. The dark colour contrasted with your bright and colourful décor. Something you found oddly reflective, once you moved on from that part of your life nothing was dark. Everything in your apartment was covered by color and patterns that made you happy.

You opened the box. You and Mr. Sparkles looked at the contents like there was a wild octopus about to come flying out of it.

“It was the right thing to do.” You said out loud. “And it's going to pay well.”

Pulling the tight outfit over your curves felt better than you thought it would. You figured that it would cause you panic or anxiety. Instead you felt a wave of confidence looking yourself over in the mirror that hung on the back of your bedroom door. Normally you were covered in bright flowy clothes, that's what you liked. Your whole life was built upon being invisible since you were little. Now that you were in charge every day was a celebration in its own way. However this made you feel sexy, the outfit was sleek and left nothing to the imagination. Pulling your long hair into a tight french braid you were ready to get out there and do some thieving.

You kissed Mr. Sparkles and gave your aloe vera plant a light touch on your way out the window. It was a hot summer night and the air was muggy. These were your favorite kinds of nights to sit out on the fire escape, have some drinks, read books, and watch the city. It was lonely, but enjoyable nonetheless.

You got up to the roof and plotted your course to the impossible house. You misstepped a couple of times before falling into your usual rhythm. You contemplated whether you were doing this because the small piece of art should be with the family it belongs too. Or if you were doing this because you had some kind of Ocean’s 11 complex that kept you hungry for such challenges. It was an impossible place to break into, the floor of the old house containing the art work was covered with laser security. A piece of knowledge that should make your stomach flip, but only makes your heart feel funny.

You got yourself into position on the roof of the low building that was across the street, you took a few minutes to survey and eventually came to the conclusion that conditions were perfect. You made your way to the 3rd floor balcony. You knew of the owner’s, an awfully cruel man and his lover. They were asleep on the 5th floor of the house. Well, city mansion? Whatever, the point is it didn't feel like a home, it felt like something a royal family would keep when they came to visit. Lots of expensive art and velvet curtains. Massive gold and crystal chandeliers hung from mirrored ceilings framed with fancy crown molding. You did your research in the few hours you had after the job request had come in, there was a - *insert super fancy techno security laser system name here.* And it was said to be unbeatable. No gymnast or other cat-like thief had been able to tango with it. You had been challenged by its precursors but had got out of the game by the time this puppy had made it out on the market.

You picked the lock on the double doors, and slid past the heavy curtains and disabled the basic alarm system for the floor. Surveying the area you saw the lasers slowly dancing like it was a Pink Floyd tribute at the local planetarium. (something you attend regularly) You took a deep breath and got ready to disco your way across the floor to the small framed painting of a sun set. You put a headphone in and set the song *put on a song you would rob a bank to*. You began the journey. People often felt that your size and shape made you incompetent or ungraceful. You learned early on in life not to listen to stupid people say stupid things. You were the best, perhaps because you weren't afraid to look stupid or ridiculous. You bended and snapped, ducked and dodged, twirled and flipped. And just like that you reached your target. The second you lifted it off the wall, the lasers stopped. You pulled your knife and twirled around ready for a fight. What you saw was not what you expected, across the room none other than Wade freaking Wilson was looking at you.. Normally you hated being stared at like that, but he was a “friend” you found particularly challenging to leave behind. The whites of his mask were wide. After making a whole bunch of strange gestures with his hands, he held up a finger motioning you to be quiet. He disappeared towards what you figured would be the staircase going up to the next floor. If he gave you a clear shot at an exit you knew he had trouble with him. So you took your out.

You got back up on the rooftop across the street, you grabbed the bag you left there and secured the painting. You pulled out a large black piece of cotton and tossed it around your shoulders like a shall. This made your outfit look less stealth and more passion for leather/night out on the town. Making your way down the fire escape on the side of the building you saw the target house explode.

I guess Wade hasn't changed any.

You picked up the pace feeling anxious to get to Sister Margrets. Making your way through the city unnoticed, you went into the shitty establishment through the alleyway door. You wasted no time moving through the hallway into the servers entrance spitting you out behind the bar. You kept by the entrance which kept you out of sight, you didn't want to see any more friends tonight. Weasel jumped when he turned around and saw you there looming in the shadows, spilling the drink he had just made.

“Fuck” He quickly remade the drink then moved back to where you were standing. He had a large envelope of cash for which you handed him the back pack. You felt slightly relieved.

“Hey I know you moved on, but thanks for this.”

“No problem”

You turned around and went out the way you came in. Opening the door that leads back to the alley way, you notice a very large and slightly singed body blocking your exit.

“Stay for a drink?” His voice caused something in you to stir. Something you were not going to explore.

“Sorry Wade but no can do” You pushed past him and began walking down the street.

“Pretty pleaseeeee” he said with a sing song voice. You tried not to smile. He caught up to you so he was walking beside you. “If your not a big drinker anymore we could go for diner, tacos!, Sushi, chicken nuggets, you always loved a good chicken nugget” You tuned him out as he kept chattering a list of every food he could remember eating together. You had to figure out somewhere to go as you weren't leading him back to your apartment. Going in random directions, he spoke up.

“I know you live on *Insert cute street name here*”

“What the fuck Wilson?”

“Well you disappeared and I wanted to make sure you weren't being unalived. This means if we head back to yours we can do take out and homemade drinks, which in my opinion is much better anyway. I make the best margaritas in the city.”

You started the walk back towards your apartment. Trying desperately to come up with a way to leave him at the front of the building. The thought of him in your very personal, very colourful, even bordering on childish apartment made you unbelievably anxious. Every time you looked over at his slightly charred body you couldn't help a strange feeling welling up inside you. You got to the front door to the building and turned to look up at him. There was a long pause as you struggled for words.

“It's alright. It was a nice walk.” You could hear the layers of sadness underneath his tone. You were going to tell him that it was a nice walk and that maybe one day when things were better for you they could get that drink. Then you were going to threaten him into keeping everything a secret.

“I don't have stuff for margaritas.” The wrong words left your mouth but for a fleeting moment you actually didn't want him to leave.

“Are you sure?” Hey sounded very serious which caught you off guard and confused you a little.

“Yeah, normally I just drink stuff out of a can” You were terrible at mixing drinks, they were always way too sweet and strong and lead to trouble. Wade gave a big laugh. “Are you okay to pick up the stuff if I get changed?”

“You betcha.” He did a twirl, blew you a kiss, then headed down the street.

You dashed up to your apartment and started to hide your more personal stuff. Grabbing an armful of clean laundry off the couch, tossing it into an empty bin in the closet. You were so busy trying to hide your stuffed animals and random fan art, that you didn't notice him standing in the fire escape landing looking at you from the large open window.

“Damn. This was not what I was expecting.” He said, sounding surprised. “This isn't what your old place looked like at all”

“Uh” Your face got hot and you refused to look at him. “I ah don't have people over so um yeah. You can go now.”

“Nonononononono. This is a huge bit of progress from everything being varying shades of grey and uncomfortable.” Wade took the place in as he made his way to your kitchen. Placing the big brown bags on the counter top, and sliding the blender out from against the bright backsplash.

"Uh I'm going to get cleaned up. Help yourself to everything." You ran into the bathroom and freshened up and were very grateful to be out of the leather and into your summer pj's. They were more on the revealing side but you never found Wade the type to care or be creepy.

Coming out you found him very comfortable whirling around the kitchen. It looked like he had made a giant frying pan of pad thai and the blender was full. Turning around to see you he picked you up and sat you on the counter top like you were nothing more than a bottle of the many sauces he currently had out. He handed you one of your favorite rainbow glasses filled with margarita. Your brain was still trying to calm down from him picking you up like that.

"Thanks" you said with an even redder face.

"No problem, hot stuff" he divided the food into two plates, you led him out to sit on the fire escape with you. It was a sacred space, it felt weird to be there with a real live person. After the most delicious plate of food ever, many drinks, and laughs about the good old days things quieted down leaving a thick tension between the two of you. You realized you owed him an apology of sorts.

"Wade, I'm sorry I didn't give you a proper goodbye. I just had a life of running and I couldn't risk anyone fucking me over again."

"It's alright babe. I understand why you did it." His voice was low and sad and it made your heart hurt. You didn't want the night to end.

"Thanks for keeping my place here a secret."

"No problem. Do you think mayyybe now that I know about your situation we could do this again sometime?"

"You have no idea how nice that would be." You really meant it having him around was the most fun you'd had in a very long time. You didn't have to pretend or beat around the bush about anything with Wade. Nothing was too dark or silly or messed up.

"Well I guess this is my cue." He made to stand up but you grabbed his knee without thinking.

"Uh if you want to. You could also stay for a while." He turned his head to the side, bright eyes looking you over. "You could take a shower and I've definitely got a shirt and some boxers I could lend you." His eyes got wider. "They're mine. They're really…. comfy…" you would never understand how he made you so embarrassed.

"Uh, not sure about that… it just…" he motioned to the rest of his body.

"I've seen your face. It won't bother me" you looked up at him with empathetic eyes, part of you hoping that maybe they came across as bedroom eyes. You gave yourself a mental slap.

"If you're uncomfortable, that's okay too." You said, giving him a kind smile. You could tell there was an internal battle. So you gave him a minute.

"Alright that sounds nice. It's a fucking mess under here tho."

You went into your bathroom and found your gentlest scent free soap and a soft towel. Then into your room to find a giant t-shirt and your biggest pair of boxer shorts.

You put it into a nice pile in the bathroom.

"Okay there's some nice soap, it's natural scent free, made of angel's tears or some shit and a clean towel and clothes in there for you."

Wade shifted around you into the bathroom. "Thanks"

You flopped onto your bed and looked up at your glow star collection that littered the ceiling. You heard the water start running and you closed your eyes. Until your herd some very loud and off key Britney Spears. You couldn't help but laugh. Soon enough he was out and flopped onto the bed next to you.

"Man this is the best sleepover ever."

"If this has been your best sleepover with a chick I feel sorry for you. And her." You joked.

"Sorry enough for a pity cuddle." You know what the look he gave you meant. He was testing the waters to see what kind of night this was gonna be. You couldn't help but feel the need to challenge it.

"We could cuddle… or we could do other stuff then cuddle." You'd thought of all the reasons this was a bad idea. But voices weren't loud enough over the sound of your heart beating. He leaned in closer, fingers brushing your cheek.

"You sure that's not a margaritas talking?"

"Very sure." You said eyes locked with his.

"Why now?" It was a good question. One you had to think about.

"I don't think I ever was really myself. Like I was as much of myself as I could be while hurting that much. Now I'm happy and I enjoy things differently"

"Hmmm I noticed that. I think I got to know you more in the past few hours than I had when we were friends. You actually laugh now. At jokes and not just crazy like when things are exploding" he moved his hand to run through your hair and you couldn't hold back a soft moan. It had been so very long since someone had touched you.

You felt his lips press into your forehead. You'd thought about Wade before but he was in a relationship, then she died, and Wade wasn't himself for a long time. You'd figured if you were something he wanted he'd make it clear considering the dude flirted with everyone. You'd always had a secret fear that maybe you went his type. Vanessa was short and very tiny, other than her you were only sure of one other and that was Cable, who was serious, fit, tall, and massive. You were a good height and curvy as all hell. Suddenly you felt self conscious. But then he put his hands on either side of your face tilting your head up to meet his. You opened your eyes and they focused in on his lips. They were so close it caused the air in your lungs to get stuck.

"You're pretty quiet. You sure you wanna try to do other things. We can jump right to cuddling if that's better for right now?"

You looked up to meet his eyes.

"Is that what you want?" You tried your best to have it come out casually.

"Not really."

Your eyes migrated back down to his lips and you shuffled closer. You wanted to kiss him so badly you felt like your body was on fire.

"You can take whatever you want baby"

******************PSA: Dirty stuff below ;)*********************

That's all the permission you needed. You moved in and softly pressed your lips into his, then took things deeper. It didn’t take much for your breathing to become ragged, you were trying desperately to take the kiss further.

Eventually you bit his bottom lip and whimpered, finally he agreed, his hands tightened on your face and your tongues started to battle it out. You wanted to win, so you moved to straddle him. Finally accomplishing some friction between the two of you, you could feel your panties sliding against your wet folds. This only lasted for a few glorious seconds, before he flipped you on to your back quickly moving to pin your arms above your head.

He started moving south leaving a red hot trail of destruction behind him. There was only so much your tank top would allow, Wade seemed very content palming your right breast while biting on the flesh beneath your left collar bone. You on the other hand wanted your goddamn clothes off.

You tried to break his grip and moaned when you realized such a task would only be accomplished by hurting him. He really had you trapped there, a piece of knowledge that only made you want your clothes off more. His grip on your breast tightened and his smirking lips took a long pull on the hardened nub that was poking up benthe the cotton of your top. You couldn't help your back arching. Finally, after paying respects to your other breast, he pulled back to look at you. He squeezed your wrists.

“Stay”

God he was so bossy. Something that divided you internally. A part of you wanted to push it, see how hard he would dig into you, and the other part was desperate to behave and be good. You decided you would be good, for now. He sat up, leaning back on his knees in between your legs. Slowly his fingers brushed across the soft skin of your stomach, then his hands ran up along your torso taking your shirt with them. Feeling his scarred hands trail lightly across you sent shivers through your body. You felt him cup and knead your breasts for a moment before pulling your top over your head. He took a long look at you which made you feel delicious. No one had ever pulled out this side of you before. Kissing down your stomach he stopped at the waistband of your shorts. He took your left leg and used it to flip you over, somehow taking your shorts off at the same time. There you were ass up naked and loving every second of it. His big hands came down to smack your ass, a loud noise of please ran out of your mouth along with most of the air in your lungs. Enjoying the response he did it again then started kneading the flesh.

“Fuck you are so fucking sexy.” You felt his hands slide down to grip the tops of your thighs. You arched your back further resting your head on the bed. “Good girl.” The words hit you like a bullet but before you had time to find your footing his hot mouth was all over you wet folds.

His skilled tongue painting some kind of masterpiece, he was touching you everywhere but where you really desperately wanted it. But this seemed to be the way he operated, and you weren't complaining. After feeling like he had been everywhere, he started to circle that tight ball of nerves and you couldn't help but let out a shout. Pleasure was ripping through your body, things were starting to get hot and tight inside you, when all of a sudden those glorious lips closed in and created some heavenly suction. You couldn't stop your hips from bucking, this earned a heavy slap on your right ass cheek.

“Fuck fuck fuckf cukkkk ah” It quickly became too much, your orgasm hit you like a train, whole body tensing up then finally crashing down. Wade kept up the rhythm letting you ride it out. Finally pulling away when it became too much. He snaked his arm up your front to grab the front of your neck pulling you up on to your knees, angling your face so he could kiss you deeply. Putting on a show of how good you tasted. After a long moment of heated kissing, he positioned you so you were laying on your back again. Giving you a few moments to catch your breath.

“You wanna keep going?” he asked softly.

“Yes please.” you answered politely.

“Alright but, it's everywhere. All over me. So doggy style is generally best for this next part. If you wanna do it that way, I'm also just happy making you scream like this too.”

“Wade, we can stop if you need to. But I would much rather you fuck me like this. Or let me choke on you for a while then fuck me like this. On my back where I can kiss you and love you back. Ya feel me?”

He looked at you with searching eyes. You realized what you said probably sounded a bit off. Love you back probably wasn't the right thing to say, but you were operating with limited brain function at this point.

“This normally doesn't end well for me.”

“Hmmm. What part, how do you like to uh finish?” You asked slightly confused. Wade only laughed.

“That's not the problem, I almost got off just from you screaming like that. No, I just want to make sure you actually enjoy it. It's hard to enjoy things when you are looking up at someone who looks like they lost a fight with an industrial paper shredder that happened to be on fire.”

You snorted.

“Wade I never knew you before, but I’ve wanted you since I met you. Okay? There's no spooky feelings here.” Your words seemed enough to convince him. He leaned in for a soft kiss, one that made you want to misbehave. You pulled the shirt up, running your hands across the well defined muscles of his torso, then broke the kiss to pull it up over his head. You didn't give him a chance to be chatty, you resumed the heavy kiss, palming his erection. He moaned into your mouth. Feeling accomplished, you pulled the boxers off letting his heavy cock slap up against his stomach. You couldn't help but break the kiss, looking down you watched your hand slide over his impressive, throbbing length. You wanted to take him in your mouth, but before you could push him back onto the bed, he was already pinning you in place beneath him.

You felt him slide himself through your heat. Finally lining himself up with your entrance, his thumb set a steady pace on your clit as he pushed into you slowly. You were grateful he took his time opening you up. You let out a strangled sound when he bottomed out, you felt so full. He set a slow pace giving you lots of time to adjust, this only made you more desperate and needy. When he finally decided you’d had enough, you felt his hand squeeze the back of your neck as he set into a ruthless pace.

“FUCK” He was too much, his heavy body keeping you in place as your hips rose to meet every single thrust. you wanted to feel him as deeply as you possibly could. His hot mouth was biting into the flesh at the bottom of your neck. The heat inside you started to build and you were near your breaking point.

‘Wade” You breathed in a high, desperate tone.

“Cum for me baby” And just like that you felt it take over, your hips snapped up and your feet cramped up. You could feel your walls clench around him tightly, and you choked when he pushed through them even rougher than before. That thumb on your clit never gave up, keeping you trapped riding out the waves of pleasure. You felt it take him over, letting out a deep growl you felt him fill you. He held himself deep inside you, moving both his hands so his forearms were on either side of you trying to keep his weight from crushing you.

His forehead pressed against yours as you both tried to catch your breath. Eventually he moved out of you and he flopped onto his back. You got up and quickly went pee and cleaned yourself up. You grabbed another washcloth and went back to clean him up. You realised that getting up might have been a mistake. Wade was on his side with his eyes screwed shut.

“Hey, you okay?” You asked softly and grabbed the sides of his face and kissed his forehead.

“Better now.” He whispered.

“Sorry for getting up, I should have said something. Can I clean you up?” He gave you a strange look, like he was waiting for you to suddenly disappear. He took the washcloth and wiped himself down, you took it back throwing it into the bathroom. You looked down at him hoping that the voices weren't giving him a hard time. You sat next to him holding his hand, giving him some time.

**********************************************************************

“So about those cuddles?” He asked softly, and you wondered how many times people had hurt him or thrown him out.

You got under the light quilt on your bed motioning for him to do the same. He followed you, laying on his back, you tucked yourself into his side, enjoying his big arms wrapping around you. You gave his neck a light kiss.

“I missed you.” you said softly

“You have no idea how bad I missed being around you.”

“I won't leave again, if you wanted to make this either a regular thing… or a proper thing… if you're into that?” You felt a tight ball of nerves in your stomach.

“I’d really like that.” He kissed your forehead. You thought about all the things you would have to do to make this relationship compatible with your new life. But that was a later you problem, right now you were the best kind of exhausted. You both drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

Thank you again for the request!!!! <3

[arty-shadow-morningstar]

A Failed Betrothal (6)

Here is a new chapter for you guys. I am terrible at writing feelings and this is my best shot.😅 Tell me what you think.

[Masterlist]

(PART 1)(PART 5)

-------

(Words in bold is French)

“Tch, Drake is going to be busy trying to find Hawkmoth. He can’t go around Paris, being Dupain-Cheng’s boyfriend. Besides, he can’t be a proper boyfriend even in his most lucid moments. I will be her boyfriend instead.”

Tim was glad he didn’t take a sip of his coffee when Damian volunteered to be Marinette’s boyfriend. But he still choked on air. Jason with his limited knowledge of french was confused. Damian didn’t do what he heard, right?

“No, you can’t. Chloe already told them about Tim. If I come in with a different boyfriend, they would get suspicious. We can work on Hawkmoth while we go on those dates. Besides, I thought you don’t like me. That’s not going to sell the image of a loving couple.” Marinette pointed out. (She also doesn’t want to do this fake-date thing. Not because she likes Damian and she had always been a goner for green eyes and totally would be date him if it weren’t for some stupid curse dictating her feelings for him and fake-dating him might get her catch feelings for him and she would get her heart broken when this is all over and she would stay single forever and be a lonely old lady with hamsters and cats for company.)

“Actually, Mari-bug, I only told the class how romantic your boyfriend is. I never told them what he looked like. Just in case, Timothy couldn’t make it. I have back-up favors to cash in.” Chloe explained.

Marinette didn’t even know why she was surprised at that, this was Chloe after all.

“You have more than one American boy around our age in your debt who you intend to be my boyfriend? Sounds like you, Queenie. So that also means that Damian doesn’t have to do it if he doesn’t want to.”

“My offer still stands. I will be your ‘boyfriend’ before I have to go back. I will be more understanding than those other American boys when you have to rush out for an attack. That is to assume that they can come here or agree. In our initial meeting, I didn’t like that weak girl act you put up. Recent events have made me realize that you are a much stronger person. (Careful Damian, that sounds like a compliment.) You are a decent partner to date.(Shit. Shit. Shit. That wasn’t a compliment, right?)”

Damian couldn’t see why Dupain-Cheng would refuse such a good deal. He supposed her feelings might be still hurt from his first impression of her. He would give her an apology when they are alone and away from his brothers who would make a big deal of it.

“Fine. At least, the curse will at least make this fake couple thing more believable.” grumbled Marinette. The light pink blush on her face is not because he said she was someone he would date.

Oh right, the curse. He swore internally, it had possessed him to be Dupain-Cheng’s boyfriend. He now would have to endure the hand-holding, kissing and staring into each other’s eyes, and try to resist the curse which will be much harder now. Somehow, he didn’t regret it a little bit. It sounds more bearable with him doing those things with her than her with Drake. This was just a mutual agreement to ward off her suitors and prove to her classmates that she was off the market.

Chloe clapped her hands,“If we have everything sorted out, you can start being a good boyfriend by walking Marinette to school today. We want to be on time now.”

The others started packing up their stuff or finished what they were eating. Marinette was dragged out of the bakery by an impatient Damian. Chloe and Alix picked up what Marinette left behind and followed out. The rest soon left right after, leaving the two boys in the bakery.

“Hey, Replacement, tell me if I am wrong but did Demon Spawn willingly ask a girl out?” Jason asked, stealing a croissant from Tim.

“Try making himself the perfect candidate to be her fake boyfriend out of many choices, including me, and get her to agree to it. Now he has to go on a few romantic dates with Marinette in order to ward off this really pushy guy in her class. Demon Spawn also has a crush on her and he’s in denial of it. We are not hallucinating either. I’ve checked.” Tim replied, sipping his coffee.

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“Damian. Let go. Hey, Wayne, are you listening to me? Let me go. This is not how you treat your significant other. And you are not even going in the right direction.” Marinette all but yelled at him.

He released his grip on her. “My apologies for manhandling you but I wanted to tell you this away from everybody else.”

“What?” She asked, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes.

I- This is a little difficult to say for me,” Damian started. (Why were his palms sweaty? It’s just an apology. He had done it before although it was mostly because Grayson told him what he did wrong and made him do it.) “But I am sorry for calling you weak, pathetic and every other bad thing I have said about you when you have shown that you are anything but those. I was mad at myself for being caught and took it out on you.”

Her glare softened.

“Apologies accepted. The school is this way.” She said with a smile and went towards the school. Damian walked by her side, his hands in his pockets.

Marinette looked at where his hands were, “If we are going to do this fake dating thing, I suggest we hold hands.”

Damian grabbed her hand and continued walking in silence. Her hands were so small and fitted perfectly in his. Oh God, it’s the curse again. Turning him into a sap. Do not think about her hands. And the fact that she took down a man twice her size with them which was an amazing sight to watch.

“Why are you so stiff? Loosen up a little. You are with the love of your life. Smile a little.”

Damian plastered on a fake smile, “Happy?”

“It looks fake. Being a model he will be able to tell.” Marinette remarked, “Are you sure you want to do this? We can still go get Tim to be my boyfriend.”

“I can do this. Drake wouldn’t be a better choice. It doesn’t help that you are relentlessly nit-picking me. Or are you that bad of a girlfriend?” Damian couldn’t help but sniped back. “Maybe that’s why Chat Noir left you.”

He found himself back against the world and her elbow at his neck. (He would forever deny that he liked it.)

“Look here, Wayne. You know nothing about me and you shouldn’t assume that you do. Chat Noir was revoked of his status as a hero for his behaviour. If you don’t act the part properly, I am going to have my former partner, who has absolutely no sense of boundaries, harassing me in my civilian life and I have already dealt enough of his advances to last a lifetime. I have given you so many chances to get out of this which you refused and yet, you are half-assing it. So are you in this 100 percent or not? Because I am at the end of my patience right now.”

“The boy who is obsessed with you is the former Chat Noir?”

“Yes, I will explain about that later but what’s your answer?”

“I will give it my best shot but I have never pretended to be in love.”

“Were you not taught in the League?”

“There were seduction tactics shown to members when they were old enough and I left them when I was 10 but I am not sure if those skills can be applied here.”(Slamming your opponent against the wall wasn’t one of them but she was doing a great job of it so far. No. No. No. He is not his father. This is different from whatever he has with Kyle.)

She released her hold on him and grabbed his hand, leading him towards her school.

“Well then, here are the basics. Everytime you look at me, just think of your favourite things to make your smile a little more genuine. Maybe call me by a pet name if you want. Keep your touch on me like you can’t keep your hands off of me and act really reluctant when you have to let go. You will only keep them my shoulders, arms, hands and waist or I will break your hand. I will do the same. If you are going to have to kiss me, give me a warning.” He looked into her blue eyes and nodded.

“Alright.”

“Oh. I almost forgot. In case they try to question our relationship. My favourite colour is red. My favourite song is ‘Fearless’ by Jagged Stone.(I love Taylor. Sue me) And we met online a few months ago. You came all the way to Paris to see me a month ago and asked me out. We will talk more that later. Oh, I also love designing and have dreams of being a famous fashion designer.-”

Marinette rambled on which Damian found a little endearing. He looked forward to knowing more about her. He added a few comments here or there about himself (because it was only fair.) and ways to improve their cover story about their relationship.

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“We are nearly at school. Let’s start the act, Romeo.” Marinette whispered at him and looked at him with a bright smile that brought a tiny smile to his face. Okay, maybe he liked Marinette a little bit but that doesn’t mean he’s in love with her.

He moved her hand holding his to the crook of his elbow.

“Is this acceptable, my lady?”

She wrinkled her nose, (Adorable. No. Don’t go there) “This is fine. But can you not call me that? And princess too? I may have erased his memories as Chat Noir but it could be a trigger to bring them back.”

“Understandable. What about Malak?”

She blushed. Marinette had learned Arabic a while back and was very fluent in the language.

“It’s okay.” She said in a soft voice. She put her other hand on his bicep and leaned on his shoulder.

“You don’t look like a touchy-feely person so is this fine?”

“Yes.”

“Cool, let me tell you more about the atrocious lies that had passed her mouth.”

They walked into the school courtyard, arm-in-arm, for the entire school, especially Marinette’s class, to see. The perfect picture of a loving couple. Marinette’s blush from earlier was evident on her face, leaving no room for doubt about her new relationship status. (Many guys, gals and pals were upset over it.) As they both walked up the stairs, whispering and laughing about who knows what (gulliable and idiotic classmates they have to suffer learning with), two pairs of green eyes followed them.

In this case, the saying ‘green-eyed monsters’ was true. One was envious of the boy who held the girl he wanted in his arms and the other was envious of the attention the couple was receiving.

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Damian escorted Marinette to her class. He gave her a kiss on her cheek and said, loud enough for the class to hear, “Bye, Malak. I will pick you up after school for our date.”

“B-bye, Damian.”

He took her hand, gave a kiss to the back of it and departed, leaving a very red-faced Marinette behind. The rest of the class parted the way as Damian walked past.

She rushed into her seat where Chloe sat beside it, grinning like a Cheshire Cat.

“Sooooo, Mari-bug, how was your date? You two rushed out of there so quickly and left your stuff behind. So eager to spend time with your boyfriend, eh? You enjoyed it very much by the looks of it.”

“Sorry about that, Chloe. Did you bring my bag and the cheese danishes?” Marinette tried to change the topic. And she also wanted to make sure a god of destruction doesn’t go hungry and angsty during school. “Yep, here you go,” Chloe said, handing Marinette her bag and a box of cheese-flavoured snacks for Plagg, “Your mom packed some for you.”

“Marinette. Where have you been the last two days? And you came back with a boy. I am honestly worried about your behaviour.” Lila played the concerned classmate wonderfully.

“Yeah, Marinette. This is a new low, even for you.” Alya added.

Marinette readied herself to tell the cover story Damian and her worked out on the way here.

“Lila, I appreciate your ‘concern’. But the last four days have been a little hard on me so excuse me if I am a little snappy today. You see, Damian disappeared and didn’t return home after school on Friday. So when he didn’t pick up for our weekly video call, I panicked and called his family and they told me what happened. They sent me a plane to get out of Paris so I can’t get akumatized.”

“Was that why you were gone on Saturday?” Chloe asked, playing along although she already knew why Marinette wasn’t in Paris the last four days.

“Yeah. Sorry for not telling you guys. It was sorta last minute. Thankfully, he wasn’t kidnapped actually. His biological mother picked him up but never told his father that she was taking him. I just came back last night. Dami followed me to make sure I am okay.”

“What a bunch of bullcrap.” Alya said, “I don’t believe you.”

Oh. The irony... “Alya, I don’t care if you do. My life is my own business. So keep your nosy nose out of it. Your opinions don’t matter to me anymore, stranger.” Marinette internally was tired of this silly routine and wanted this to end already.

Alya wanted to pick a fight with her over the smallest things she did for the past months. She wondered why her former best friend hated her this much.

“Lila told me that you were skipping school and you paid an actor to be your pretend boyfriend.”

Pretending to not hear what Alya said, Marinette turned towards Chloe, “Hey, you never told me about how you met Tim. I can’t believe that you two are friends.”

“We met at one of those charity galas-”

“Hey, we were talking to you.” Alya cut her off. To which Chloe glared at the ombre-haired girl.

“I thought our conversation was done. What else am I supposed to say?”

Marinette was frustrated and hid that fact well, showing any reaction would give the game away. If she had reacted, it would further fuel the fire of Alya’s self-righteousness, making her believe that Marinette was somehow guilty of what Lila told her about. Lila managed to turn nearly the entire class against her by appealing to their ‘hero’ side and outbursts from Marinette and the others made them more sure of themselves of being in the right. It was so deep-rooted that nothing would sway them to logical reasoning. Maybe except Phase 2. Phase 1 was made a little easier when Talia kidnapped her and made her miss a few days of school.

Phase 2 was to not acknowledge the lies or just appear uninterested. It would illustrate the point that people don’t have to listen to them if they don’t want to. If possible, sow little seeds of doubt to the ones Lila had a looser grip on. The more people they can slowly get on their side, the better.

Alya was confused, usually Marinette would throw a ‘temper tantrum’ about how she didn’t do that and Lila lied.“I-, you should-, You should apologize to Lila.”

Marinette raised an eyebrow, “For what this time?”

“For saying that she was lying.”

“Pray tell, when did in any of our conversations so far did I do that? I mean I don’t like the fact that she just accused me with little evidence of paying my someone to be my boyfriend but I am not going to fight with anyone over it. Maybe I did do that, Maybe I didn’t. Maybe there is a good reason I did those things. The thing is Lila should keep to her own business and I will keep to mine. And as should you. I know you are a reporter at heart but you should at the very least respect my privacy.”

Alya stayed silent, fuming. Everyone was looking at them now. She realized that the designer was right and if she pushed further, she would be the bad guy.

“I thought so. Now, go away. I have nothing else to say to you. Let Chloe finish her story of how she met Tim which you so rudely interrupted.”

“Who’s Tim?” Lila asked, wanting to know more about Marinette’s boyfriend to work on an angle to get him away from the ravenette.

“Mari-Bug’s boyfriend’s older brother. Now, shoo peasants, we are talking. Anyways, Mommy took me to when I was younger so I could mingle with all the other rich kids and get connections. Timothy was there and back then, he was still with the Drakes...”

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Lila and Alya returned to their seats, both were visibly upset although Lila was seething inside. When Marinette was not at school for the last two days, the Italian thought that it was the last she had seen of her. Today, she showed up with a handsome boy on her arm and by the looks of his clothes, rich too. If she manages to get ‘Damian’ to break up with that pest and date her instead, then she would have a rich, handsome boyfriend devoted to her and that brat would be so heart-broken that an akuma so powerful would be made that even Ladybug won’t be able to defeat. A two for one deal. Lila started planning (scheming) to take her boyfriend away.

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(Part 7)

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Edit: I am so sorry. I forget to add the taglist.

Tag list: @alysrose-starchild, @buginetye, @lookatthestars1, @blackroserelina, @macncheesemonster, @mochinek0, @myazael, @tonicxworld, @thewitchwhowaited, @t1dwarrior-of-earth, @kissa-chan, @iwantasecretidentity, @theymakeupfairies, @user00000003, @woe-is-me0, @kashlyn, @mochegato,@moonlightstar64 , @greatcatblaze, @moongoddesskiana, @tazanna-blythe. @tonicxworld, @toodaloo-kangaroo, @frieddonutsweets, @local-witch-of-mn, @lady-bee-fechin, @iglowinggemma28, @indecisive-mess-named-me, @k-tea-and-coffee, @jayjayspixiepop, @all-mights-asscheeks, @idk-j-go-with-it , @loysydark, @thenillabean, @lolieg, @zalladane, @silvergold-swirl, @henie04, @blueblossombliss, @khneltea, @mochegato, @itsmeevie01, @roguishredaxion, @alyssadeliv, @steph-hearthlight, @adrestar, @eliza-bich, @abrx2002, @hikari55ttva, @doglover82, @daminette5074, @moon5608,@justafanwarrior, @allis-sun, @animegirlweeb, @aespades, @corporeal-terrestrial, @mildlydeadly, @kanamexzeroyaoifangirl,

[ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff]

Valentines Day for Nerds (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

Summary: Spencer’s favourite holiday is often taken up mostly by work, but this year his enjoyment doesn’t seem to be as disruptive in the BAU bullpen. The team soon realise why.

AN: It’s a bit late- who am I kidding? IT’S ALWAYS HALLOWEEN IN OUR HEARTS! This was a part of @imagining-in-the-margins fic swap, for the brilliant @agntprentiss <3 

For my smut fic from the swap, check out A Little Indulgence (18+ only!)

Reader uses she/her pronouns!

Word count: 1.7k words

Gif credit to @imagining-in-the-margins​ <3

Your name: submit What is this?

The first breach of boredom was Penelope practically skipping into the bullpen, her arms cradling a bouquet of flowers as if it were an infant. The bold orange roses contrasted with the dyed black petals of its counterparts as they were planted upon Spencer’s desk.

“Delivery for Doctor Reid!” trilled Penelope, clapping her hands now that they were free of said delivery. Dropping his pen onto his unfinished paperwork, Spencer pivoted the base of the bouquet before he found a small black envelope.

It held a little card with two pumpkins, happy faces carved into them both. Inside were the following words:

 Black is for new beginnings,

Orange is for enthusiasm,

Spooky times are afoot tonight,

Watch out for ectoplasm!

I spent ten minutes trying to think of a rhyme for that. Happy Halloween, Cara Mia!

Y/N xxx

Spencer beamed as he placed the bouquet at the edge of his desk, next to the fake severed hand that now held the card in its stiff fingers. He scratched his bristly cheek. Less than a day until he could shave this off. It’d be worth it though.

“Is it from Y/N?”

He looked up to see Penelope had lingered like a lost spirit, waiting to see if her trials of passing on the bouquet had been worthy enough for her to move onto the next world – her Batcave. She was poised with a hopeful expression.

“Yes,” Spencer said, watching Penelope lean up on her tiptoes as she tried to rein in her delight.

She clapped her hands, her purple painted nails clicking as they tapped together, “Are my two favourite ghost hunters up to much this Hallow’s Eve?”

“We’re going to see the Phantasmagoria re-enactment after we go trick-or-treating with Henry tonight.”

It was hard to ignore the absolute glee with which Spencer spoke. Even if one completely ignored the way his voice carried a light excitement, the way his eyes lit up and his broad smile almost fell off his face was enough to connote that he was very excited for tonight. It was also hard to ignore the mild bemusement on the faces of everyone who heard.

Glad to be back and bearing witness to his elated behaviour regardless, Emily cracked a smile, “Maybe she’ll cling to you when she gets scared.”

A heat crawled up Spencer’s neck and he tried to return to work now in hopes that his gift’s display would be cut off. He’d rather sit in the glow of receiving the flowers without mockery.

To the team’s credit, no one ribbed him for it.

The flowers were not the last gift though.

Soon Penelope reappeared, “Your Cupid has returned with another gift for you!”

As he tore at the paper and revealed an Edgar Allen Poe pin – the titular Raven he instantly attached it to his satchel strap – in pride of place, just like the bouquet.

Derek was the one to notice how Spencer’s sandwiches had been cut into little pumpkins. Some digging and Spencer revealed that he had gotten Y/N to order a cutter online. He held his lunch in one hand, his collection of classic Halloween short stories in the other, with a childish glee that no one wanted to squander.

When Spencer climbed the steps to drop off a file to Hotch around mid-afternoon, Rossi walking behind him noted the brand-new socks. A classic odd pairing, and obviously they were Halloween themed. This kid left no opportunity untaken when it came to celebrating Halloween – more than his own birthday.

But Rossi was not closed enough to get a good look at them, and no one else was as close. So, he recruited Emily and Derek to discover what the pattern was. It was Emily and Derek who upped the stakes by wanting to get a glimpse without arousing suspicion. Now that outright asking Spencer was not an option, the game began as they dropped several pens as an excuse to bend over and strain for a flash of those socks.

Derek eventually resorted to a pantomime attempt at tripping in front of Spencer’s desk and gave the jig up straight away by shouting to a stressed Emily (whilst also catching the attention of Hotch through his office’s blinds): “IT’S IT!”

A few language barriers hurdled later, and hindsight brought them both clarity. The red splodge on Spencer’s ankle was officially defined as a balloon.

“So tell us! What’s the other one?” Emily said, her voice strained with how much she was invested in this single sock.

Spencer hiked up his trouser leg to display the skeletal zombie sewn into the sock. “It’s Curtis Danko from When Good Ghouls Go Bad. Y/N had it commissioned for me!”

JJ was watching nearby, unaffected by the tensions of the sock bet. She knew the film because Y/N had wanted to show it to Henry the other week when she babysat him. But upon further inspection, the R.L. Stine film – while intended for kids – might be a little intimidating for Henry to watch without his profiler mother and godfather, police officer father, and favourite auntie there to protect him from the cursed statue.

No one else in the bullpen knew the film.

The team soon discovered that Spencer was not the only one to be on the receiving end of such gifts. Six o’clock rolled around and Y/N entered the bullpen. She was wearing a fuzzy black scarf, some sparkles shining within the wool. At the tail of it, a lucky black cat patch was sewn onto the end. It caught Rossi’s eye and he hid behind a folder as he smiled. The three times that Spencer had forgone a card game with him (in favour of knitting the scarf on the flights back from cases) had been riddled with playful teasing. It was good to see that it was worth it.

Especially when Spencer saw Y/N wearing it and his back snapped straight up. His chair flew backwards, spinning around with the effort that Spencer had launched himself from it, and he and Y/N embraced each other with casual affection.

“How was work today?”

“Not as boring as I thought. But, I have to say: I’m meant to call you Cara Mia.” Spencer’s eyes darted to the card Y/N had sent that morning.

Y/N caught onto his meaning, “Should I stop?”

“Never.”

She rubbed her nose against his and Spencer went pink again, giggling like a teenager. True, he was as smitten with Y/N as Gomez was with Morticia. Then he remembered he was in the workplace as Y/N went to greet the rest of the team, and Spencer’s pink became a scarlet.

“Aww, Pretty Boy,” Derek grinned at him from his desk chair, “You’re so cute!”

“It’s like Sergio!” Emily said, admiring the scarf with her thumb rubbing over the stitches around the cat patch.

“Make sure he’s safe tonight,” Y/N squeezed her hands for a second.

Then JJ appeared from her office, coat and bag over her arm, and she, Y/N, and Spencer wished the bullpen a Happy Halloween before they left.

They had three hours before the Phantasmagoria started. Plenty of time to get ready.

Henry was right behind the front door of his home. The second it opened, he bounced at Spencer’s feet, his tiny hand clutching onto two of his fingers to drag him inside. He was babbling away at such speed that Y/N could barely keep up. She gave Will a wave across the ironing board where he was diligently ironing Will’s cape.

“Well don’t you look handsome!” Y/N beamed at Henry while JJ combed his hair back, slick with gel. It was something he agreed to but only if Spencer was doing the same. Which he was, occupying the downstairs bathroom as he prepared his own costume.

The moment Spencer had finished shaving everything bar the moustache, he was plonked in front of the television. Henry smoothed out his cloak and put in his plastic fangs in to watch the rest of his new favourite Halloween film, The Little Vampire. He mumbled along with Rudolph’s lines and sat enraptured as he pointed out to Spencer the flying scenes. Luckily for him, Will and JJ were getting dressed as Frederick and Freda Sackville-Bagg upstairs to join in the Halloween spirit – last year’s Halloween date night disaster long forgotten.

Henry put in his plastic fangs and hissed at Y/N who emerged in her long sleek black dress. As she stepped across the room as elegantly as Morticia, Spence spied that she was wearing the black spiderweb tights he had bought her today.

“Hello, Gomez,” She smiled radiantly at Spencer, smoothing out his suit jacket as he stood before her. He presented her with a red rose that matched her lipstick to a tee.

As she breathed in the flower’s scent, he kissed her cheek, enjoying her giggle at the bristle of his ‘stache, “You’re stunning.”

“Thank you, and you’re handsome as ever.” She swung their linked hands between them in the opposite way she poised on her tiptoes. “Maybe we should have taken a tango class.”

And she laughed loudly at Spencer’s wincing at such a thought.

“It’s ok, Cara Mia. I’ll settle for a kiss instead.”

Oh, that was something he could do forever. He brought her hands to his lips and kissed her knuckles then the inside of each wrist.

Unfortunately, Henry interrupted the stream of kisses that were headed in Y/N’s way. “Ready to go!” He skipped his way between the happy couple.

It was hard to be mad at Henry, especially with how adorable he looked beside his parents and with his bright orange pumpkin bag ready to collect candy. He felt safe with his four favourite adults guarding him.

“Tonight,” Y/N whispered into his ear and he could hear the smirk in her words, “After the Phantasmagoria.”

Spencer beamed, his dimples delightfully framing that smile. One day maybe, they would have their own Wednesday, Pugsley, and Pubert to join them. And maybe then Derek would dress up as Uncle Fester.

[writesowhatnext]

elementary, my dear weasley // fred weasley

Summary: Fred receives an anonymous love letter so he enlists his best friend to help him figure it out

Request: Could you write some fluffy Fred W x Reader? The reader gives Fred an anonymous love letter but since they’re friends, he asks her to help him figure out who it is? You can go anywhere from there! Thank you x

A/N: this is such a super cute prompt so I really hope I can do it justice

Reader: unspecified

Warnings: none actually, I think

As Fred walked towards you with a very serious look on his face, you regretted every decision you’d ever made, simultaneously. Why did you tell your mum that your cat had broken the vase? Why did you snog that boy in first year? Why did you dye Ron’s hair pink and let the twins take the fall? Why did you start your last Charms essay the day it was due? Why did you write Fred that stupid letter? Your mind was in overdrive trying to devise a getaway plan, if you avoided Fred now then he’d definitely come and find you at some point but then, at least you could be more emotionally prepared for rejection. How had he even found out it was you? You’d gone to extreme lengths to throw him off the scent.

In your panic, you’d forgotten to actually try to execute any form of escape plan and so there you sat, a sitting duck, with Fred Weasley charging towards you. You winced as he slammed the familiar paper down in front of you, familiar handwritten peeking out from between his spread fingers. You looked up from his hand to his face very, very reluctantly. And for some reason, he was smiling.

“You will never guess what I’ve just found.”

You frowned, watching him with a fairly healthy level of confusion as he dragged a chair to sit at your table. He ignored the annoyed looks from the Gryffindors at the table he’d stolen from and sat down, pushing your letter towards you.

“Read that.”

Your frown deepened as you slowly pulled the letter toward you. What sort of mind game was he playing?

Your heart beat loudly in your ears with every word you read: from the ‘Dear Fred,’ to the ‘With love.’, you’d reread and checked the letter more times then you could count and you could practically recite it by heart at this point. When you left it for him, it had been a good idea, now it just filled you with regret and a horrible sick feeling in your stomach. You raised your head to look at him and hummed, carefully watching his reaction.

“Hmmm?” he asked incredulously, snatching the letter back and staring at it. “I know it’s not surprising because I mean, come on, but surely someone confessing their love to me via the timeless art of letter-writing deserves more than a ‘hmmm’, don’t you think?”

You stared at him for a moment. All the while, he just looked at you expectantly. And then it clicked; Fred had no idea you sent that letter. Your mouth fell open slightly as you tried to figure out how you would behave in this situation – if it was someone else that’d been hopelessly in love with Fred.

“Let me read it again.” You insisted, pulling it from his hands. You didn’t read it; you just stared down at parchment, trying to figure out what you were going to do about it. He didn’t know it was you; that was perfectly clear. It would be fine. He never needed to know it was you, not really.

“Who do you think wrote it?”

Happy that you were finally asking the right questions, Fred smiled and rested his elbows on the table.

“That’s what I need your help to find out.”

“You want to find out who sent it?” you asked loudly. Perhaps a little too loudly, you discovered; a couple of people in the common room looked up at you.

“Do I-“ Fred shook his head. “Blimey, Y/N, what has got into you today? Of course, I want to find out who sent it.”

“Why?”

Fred could not fathom your behaviour right now – his fish impression proved that. Once he’d stopped opening and closing his mouth, he placed a hand on the paper, pointing at it with his finger.

“Whoever wrote this says that I am the sunshine of their world, Y/N.” he shot you a deadpan look. “The sunshine of their world.”

You made a face, your composure slipping, a horrible cringing sensation coming over you. “And?”

“And…” he stressed, rolling his eyes. “I want to find out who thinks so highly of yours truly.”

“To do what?”

“Bloody hell, Y/N, what’s with all the questions?” Fred huffed, making a face. “I just want to figure out who sent it – I have to talk to them.”

You wanted to know what he meant by that but you couldn’t afford to keep asking questions without raising some sort of suspicion.

“So how are you going to figure out who?”

“Well,” he said, frowning. “That’s why I’m here. George took a look and said that if anyone could help me, it was you. So, dear, dear Y/N, any ideas?”

You paused for a moment, confused. Why would George think you knew who wrote it? Sure, you knew a fair few people but you were hardly Sherlock sodding Holmes. It was probably a coincidence, you thought. Though, the strange nervous feeling in your stomach lingered.

“Well,” you leant your chin on your elbow. “Tell me how you found it.”

The smile that lit up his face at the promise of your help was almost enough to quash your guilt at the fact that this definitely, probably, certainly qualified as lying to him.

You barely listened as he talked you through his morning routine. He’d woken up, late as usual, and thrown on his robes because he thought it was Monday – it was not. When he was rifling through them to find some Helium Toffees that he swore – though you were thoroughly unconvinced - he didn’t plan to use on you, he found a folded-up section of parchment. And, the first thing he did was smell it.

“You what?” you asked, definitely now listening. “What did you do that for?”

“To see where it came from.” He replied as if it were obvious.

You frowned at him, lost for words. Not only had you not disguised any sort of smell when you’d written it, you were also kind of worried about Fred’s mental state that that was his first thought.

“So, what did it smell like then?”

“Nothing, really.”

You stared at him for a moment. You were exasperated, for sure, but you couldn’t help the way your stomach flopped, replacing it with fondness.

“Well given that very promising lead didn’t pan out-“

“Oi!” Fred poked you in this side, earning a hideously loud spout of laughter from you. You grumbled as he smiled proudly.

“What’s next?”

“Well,” he began, leaning forward as if revealing the biggest conspiracy to sweep the wizarding world since, well, Harry Potter. “I figure whoever it is has to be close to me, right? To get it in my robes and all.”

You tried to fault his logic, but you’d forgotten, with how horrible of a student he could be, that Fred was actually a genius when he wanted to be. You just nodded.

“I don’t know where to go from there though: I don’t recognise the handwriting; I don’t know when they put it in there; I can’t write one back-“

“You’d write back?” You tried to hide how breathless the thought made you.

“It’s like you know nothing about letter-writing etiquette.”

If only he knew.

Forgetting that you were trying not to be helpful, lest he discovered that you were his secret admirer, you were accidentally helpful.

“Didn’t you go through your pockets before you changed last night to find that chocolate frog Ron stole?”

“So, Ron stole that frog.” he turned to you, smirking. You remembered in that second that you’d promised Ron that you’d keep that information to yourself.

“What? Who told you that?”

He narrowed his eyes as you painted the most innocent expression you could on your face.

“But yeah, you’re right. So what?”

“So what?” This boy. “So, they must’ve put it in your robes after that.”

His face lit up.

“Okay so, who did you see after that?”

Finding his concentrated frown much cuter than you should’ve, you were almost disappointed when he started talking.

“George, Ron, You-“ you were both sad and happy that he didn’t pause. “Hermione?”

You shook your head, making a face. He nodded in agreement.

“Harry, Lee, Angelina. Do you think it was Angelina?”

You stomach sank at his excitement. “Could be.”

He smiled, leaning back on his chair, pleased with himself.

“So, what are you gonna do?”

He seemed surprised at your question as if he’d forgotten what the point of your detective work was.

“It’s still lunchtime, right?”

You looked at the clock on the wall. “Just about.”

“Come on then, my little detective.”

As you followed him to the Great Hall, you tried to ignore the way your heart jumped at the nickname.

When you reached the Hall, Angelina was sat down, surrounded by her friends. George was also there, probably late from his detention with Snape.

“Alright, George?” Fred said, nudging his shoulder against his brother’s. George looked at you, and then at Fred. Something was strange about his stare.

“Why do you look so happy?” George asked, crossing his arms.

“Y/N and I have cracked the case!”

“Oh, really?” When George looked at you almost pointedly, a lump formed in your throat. He knew.

“And I’m going to go seal the deal – wish me luck, Georgie.”

As Fred walked rather confidently over to Angelina, you and George stood shoulder to shoulder. In silence. It was eating you alive. Your mind swam with things to say: explanations, excuses, ways to make a clean exit.

“I didn’t think you had it in you.” He said, his tone light and a smile on his lips as he watched his brother strike up a conversation. Out of all the things he could’ve said, you hadn’t expected that. You looked up at him and he nodded over to Angelina’s confused face. “Letting him trot over there thinking Angelina wrote that letter? Very wicked.”

You paused before deciding you had nothing left to lose.

“What was I supposed to do? Tell him?”

“Yes.” George said as if it was obvious – his expression a carbon copy of Fred’s.

“He would hate me, George.”

He laughed, throwing his arm around your shoulder, pulling you into him. You wondered what about your misfortune he found so funny. “My sweet, sweet Y/N,” you both watched as Angelina’s friends burst into laughter. You felt even more guilty at Fred’s discouraged expression. “Fred could never hate you.”

As Fred returned to you, tail between his legs and ego wounded slightly, he didn’t even notice George’s arm around you. He just frowned, nodding.

“At least that narrows down our suspect pool.” Then he turned to George. “Up for helping us figure out the mystery?”

George let go of your shoulder, making apologetic gestures as he backed away.

“Sorry mate, still got detention.”

Fred made a face before turning to you. George winked as he left the Hall in the opposite direction of the dungeon.

“So, who’s left?”

You were worried about how short the list of possible authors was getting and George’s words were echoing in your head.

“Fred,” you started, tilting your head to the side. “I have to tell you something.”

“What?” he asked, frowning and crossing his arms.

“Well, I-“

You cursed yourself.

“So, I-“

“What I’m trying to say is that I…”

You closed your eyes and sighed.

“Basically this is really hard to say and I really don’t know what to do if you hate-”

“You wrote the letter?”

Your head shot up to see Fred, smirking with an eyebrow raised.

“I can’t believe you’d send me off to go ask Angelina whether she wrote it. Blimey, love, you’re more ruthless than I thought; should be a bloody Slytherin. It’s a good job I figured it out before I plundered over there like a right git.”

You blinked. What was happening? Why was Fred smiling? How did he know?

“You knew all along?”

He just smiled.

“Why- Why did-“ you stopped, mouth open. “Why did you make me help you?”

“Bit of fun,” he shrugged, pressing his lips together. “Wanted you to tell me.”

You placed your hand to your forehead, groaning. You must look like a right idiot.

“How did you know?”

“Smelt like you, didn’t it.”

You frowned, moving your head.

“You pay attention to what I smell like?”

“I pay attention to everything about you.”

He placed his hands on your hips. You were sure you’d short-circuited.

“The way you smell… the face you make when you lie… how suspicious you look when you’re messing with my robes.”

It was impossible, you thought, to be more embarrassed than you were in that exact moment.

“You saw me put it in there.”

“I saw you put it in there.” He said, pulling you into him. “Was quite pleased when I read it, actually, I’ve fancied you for years.”

“You’re lying.”

You placed your hands very tentatively on his chest, his soft jumper underneath your palms.

“There’s only one liar here.”

You made a face. He looked over your head, pursing his lips before looking down again.

“The sunshine of your world, ay?”

“Shut up.” You groaned, cringing again. He laughed, his whole body shaking. “What does this mean?”

“Well,” he moved his hand to the small of your back. “I was hoping it meant I could kiss you.”

You nodded, again at a loss for words.

“That alright with you?”

You just nodded.

[sloppykyuu]

BRAIN DO BIG BRRR

After finally moving into a small cute house with a garden Isseis kitten gf demanded a kitten room for herself and herself only and ofc he agreed and he's never allowed inside until one day he hears her meow in pain and he rushes in and sees that a few big books fell on her tail so he carries her out to bed and makes sure she's ok and after she's passed out and sleeping he sneaks back into her room cos he's just so curious and all he finds is a bunch of pictures of them together at the wall with stickers and cute drawings and tons of books about cats, human behaviour, fish and sex so he sinks down into all the cute soft and fun shaped pillows and starts looking through the books cos she made small notes everywhere and after that he checks the small boxes filled with cat toys, sex toys, catnip and pictures of Issei he doesn't know about she took them when he wasn't looking or sleeping and such and out of the corner of his eyes he sees one of his shirts and after digging through all the pillows he finds tons of his clothes and Issei sits there and is just so in love with her (◍•ᴗ•)

He knows you don’t want him there but he’ll just make cleaning up the books scattered on the floor his excuse in case you wake up. But the box in the corner of the room is calling his name, a cute bow placed on top of the sparkly pink box has him laying back into the mountain of pillows, box placed gently in his lap as he gets comfortable.

Inside lays your favorite vibrator, dildo, all of the best toys you like the most, a few little stuffed mice toys and an array of pictures ranging from the two of you in kyoto, his cooking for you and his sleeping figured on the couch. It would have been creepy if weren’t you, but you’re his favorite person, well kitten. He loves being the center of your world.

[marlahey]

under the same roof part one: a stickler for the rules

a harry styles rpf ratings/warnings: references to stalking behaviour by a peripheral character, too many longing looks in a space too small to contain them, she’s clueless sometimes but we love her notes: surprise surprise! it’s good to be back my friends. as far as OG openings go, part one of utsr probably underwent the least amount of rewrites. the most notable change is sylvia’s age: she’s four-ish, going on five. just makes our lives a little easier in terms of continuity and logic! (please visit the masterlist to find all our other writing because I forgot tumblr is a BITCH and hates external links now. ugh.)  utsr masterlist | part 2 (7.12.2020) 

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• tuesday, 1st february 7:48 pm • In spite of the biting chill outside, it’s about a million degrees in this lobby. You wonder if the heater is broken and if it’s always going to be like this here. The hair escaping your ponytail is pressed flat against the back of your neck, and you’re struggling to balance the crate between your chin and the massive box in your arms.

One of the corners is digging into your gut so you raise a knee to adjust it, but the box slips in your grip and you barely manage to hang on. There’s a faint meow from Chowder’s crate. The doors to the elevator whirr open with a ding and you shuffle inside. “Which floor is it again?” India grunts. The box that she’s carrying is lighter but larger—more cumbersome. It obscures half of her face and the way she’s leaning over can’t be any good for her back. “Eight,” you reply, strained. India stretches an arm out to the keypad, struggling to reach the right number. She misses. “Yeah,” you deadpan, “so press four twice.” The sound of a quiet, stifled chuckle turns your head to the back corner of the elevator. A young man leans against the hardwood of the elevator wall with his hands clasped in front of him. He is tall and lean; silver and gold rings adorn his fingers. His hair is wavy and cocoa brown, as though he used to have a businessman’s haircut but has let it grow out. He’s wearing grey tartan tweed pants and black ward lo Vans. Tattoos poke out of the sleeves of his sweater. It’s an arguably strange ensemble, but he pulls it off well. The man pushes his tortoiseshell glasses up his nose with a thumb, gaze trained on the floor. His lips are still pressed together against a smile that flirts with the corners of his mouth. Only then do you realize you’d been staring. You tear your eyes away as heat nips your cheeks and ears. In your tattered converse, mom jeans, and grubby moving flannel, you feel suddenly small. Chowder moews plaintively, like he needs to remind you of his current status in, on, and surrounded by boxes. “Is it just me,” India murmurs to you as the doors ding open on the second floor, “or did that take… is the lift broken?” “It’s the slowest bloody thing,” the man interjects, like it’s the bane of his existence. “You get used to it.” The elevator jolts to a stop on the fourth floor and the doors peel open in silence. Nobody moves. “Sorry, ” India murmurs. The man just shakes his head. The back of the door to the elevator is a mirror so you’re able to privately relish in the invisible threads of your curiosity that reach out to him. “S’ fine, ” he replies softly. By the time you’ve reached the sixth floor, you’re still peering at the man periodically from beneath your eyelashes. He looks up and holds your stare in the reflection of the doors moments before they part, and a ding sounds again through the small space. He smiles at you, poised, before pushing off the wall and stepping carefully between you and India to the hallway. The doors close once again and you are alone with your friend. She drops her box a few inches and bugs her eyes out at you from over the cardboard lid. “Dibs.” You step forward, laughing, and bump your box into hers. Finally, you reach level eight, pile the last two of your boxes by the front door, collapse on the mattress on your bedroom floor still covered in clear plastic packaging, and order pad thai. • friday, 30th march 7:23 am •

“Hold the elevator!” you call mid-jog, and immediately wince. You need to be better about calling it a lift. You make it through the doors of the lift before they close halfway, but not before noticing an arm outstretched to hold them open for you nonetheless. A cross tattoo and the bottom of an anchor poke out from the sleeve of his suit. It’s black velvet that has a navy lustor in the light. You’re in the same company now as virtually every other morning since you’d moved here—the man with the glasses who noticed you on that first day. You’re pretty sure his name is Harry, unless he’s pinning someone else’s name to his chest every day on a badge beneath red emboldened letters reading, The National Gallery, London. It’s surprising to see him as you get on, however, because he lives below you on the sixth floor. Perhaps he’d forgotten something today and needed to go back up… if this were the case, you’re glad to have caught him by chance. Every so often the cast of characters rotates. Sometimes a stout older man with an emerald green briefcase and a mustache rides down with you on weekdays. A slender woman who is almost always on her headset, hovering by the button pad occasionally makes an appearance. They both live above you. Most mornings, however, are like today. It’s just you and Harry together, without fail, if only for those few measured moments of quiet at sunrise. Perhaps you two are on the same tube schedule. For someone you see so often, you know remarkably little about Harry apart from the observable; he’s not one for small talk, has poor eyesight, and boasts impeccable taste in suits. It occurs to you that you still haven’t had a full conversation with him. You absently wonder if he’s single. You’ve even made progress from polite nods of acknowledgment to a consistent “Good morning,” from him and a nearly unflustered, “Morning,” from you (though realistically speaking, a smile before you’ve had your first cup of coffee is only manageable because India would disown you if she knew that you weren’t taking every opportunity to talk to this stupidly handsome stranger). “Thanks,” you murmur, stepping through the doors Harry’s held open for you. “Sure.” The ride down passes in silence. You can’t work up the nerve to speak until the doors part and Harry gestures for you to exit first, and by then it’s too late. You offer a faint parting smile. But, you reason, there’s always tomorrow. • sunday, 8th april 2:42 pm • The lift stops on the sixth floor in its descent as you look up from your phone. Harry’s voice is audible from the hall as the doors open and it startles you because he’s usually alone. You take a sip of your iced coffee as Harry steps inside, wearing a black knit sweater with pink and orange planets across the front, black jeans, worn leather boots, and wayfarers. In one of his hands, he carries an umbrella and rolled-up reusable grocery bag. In the other—most surprisingly—he holds the tiny hand of a little girl. She’s wearing frog rain boots, rainbow leggings, and a t-shirt that proclaims the future is female. Her dense curls are a shade darker than Harry’s, her eyes are closer to brown than hazel, and her skin is a warmer golden hue—but her smile presses a dimple into her cheek, identical to the one you’ve been staring at for months. He has a kid? Harry pulls her gently inside and she seems disappointed that the button for the ground floor is already lit. “This one pumpkin,” he whispers, pointing at the close doors symbol just beneath. She presses it with a firm clack and beams when the familiar mirrors slide across. “Daddy, can we please, please get bananas?” You almost choke on your cold brew. He has a kid. Is there a ring? Do you see a ring? You’d never noticed him in a wedding band before and he certainly isn’t wearing one now. “Shh, we won’t forget bananas… I wrote it down, remember?” With his free hand, Harry fishes out a folded piece of Hello Kitty paper from his back pocket and holds out her, more than happy to let his child snatch it from him. “Daddy, look at the pretty star!” You almost choke on your coffee again as Harry’s gaze follows his daughter’s waving hand, still gripping the pink, polka-dot paper with cat ears, all the way to the golden star dangling from your neck. “Yes, it’s very nice,” Harry nods down at her, agreeing in a voice that could only be used with a child. “Don’t point, angel… s’not very polite.” He smiles at you, almost apologetic, and gently wraps his hand around hers to lower her outstretched arm. “You have a million stars at home.” The lift stops on the ground floor. You gesture for Harry to exit first, a courtesy he always seems to extend to you, and you melt into a smile as he lifts one corner of his mouth in timid gratitude. He hesitates in the doorway on his way out. “Say goodbye, Sylvia,” he says. He has a dad voice. It makes your stomach flip. Sylvia flashes you those sparkling brown eyes once more and waves, suddenly shy. You wiggle your fingers and she buries her face into her father’s leg. “We’re workin’ on it,” Harry says, like it needs an explanation of some kind. He keeps his tender smile when he glances at you over his shoulder before he and Sylvia disappear out the lobby doors and into the rain, hand in hand. • thursday, 7th june 8:24 am • You’re pinning an earring in as you step into the lift. It stops on the sixth floor and then it’s silent as usual between you, Harry, and the mustached emerald briefcase man. You still haven’t had a complete conversation with either of them, but you hardly mind. It’s gratifying to have a few moments of peace before the triathlon that is your final exams, the gym, then straight into your evening shifts at work. Even though you’re looking forward to drinks tonight with India to celebrate the end of term, you’re weary and your body is stiff. Another sleepless night had come and gone and you’d struggled to cover the bags beneath your eyes with makeup this morning. You frown in your recollection of the nightmare, the same icy stare tormenting you. There is an older man with nearly translucent blue eyes, who you see so often around London that you’re beginning to wonder if he’s a figment of your imagination. Yesterday you’d caught a glimpse of him in the reflection of a shop window on your daily walk home from the tube station. He was staring straight at you, but when you’d spun around to look closer, he had vanished. It had unnerved you so much that you hurried straight home without stopping at the shops for kitty litter. London is a crammed metropolis; at this point it’s likely nothing, but that doesn’t stop you from losing sleep over it. “My daughter has that book,” the man with the emerald briefcase says, pulling you back to earth. You let go of your now fastened earring and hold up the book that was pinned under your arm so that the cover is on display. The Truth About Forever by Sarah Dessen. “This one?” The man hums, continuing, "I’m ashamed to say I don’t even know what it’s about.” “It’s sweet.” Harry’s eyes flash to the book and then your face as you speak. You flip it over and consider the blurb on the back. “A girl sort of accidentally starts working for this catering company one summer while she’s dealing with the loss of her dad.” The stout man brushes over his mustache with his thumb and index finger. “I never knew you were American!” “Oh, yeah,” you laugh softly through a shrug. Harry looks down to the floor and you catch the last second of his smile. “I am.” “What brings you to London then?” asks the older man. “I’m a student at UCL.” “Impressive. What do you study?” “I’m a third year in Law... um, I have a minor in Art History, though.” You peer over at Harry through the reflection of the doors, but he simply pushes his glasses up his nose. You’re startled by the lift’s ding at the ground floor. “Cheers.” The old man nods at you before exiting. “Cheers,” Harry adds like a reflex, stealing a side glance at you before brushing past into the lobby. You could have sworn you’d seen the dimple forming on his cheek to mask a smile. • thursday, 27th september 8:51 pm • You knead the back of your neck with your fingertips and frown toward the ground as you wait for the lift. You don’t usually get home this late but your research advisor needed you to come in a little earlier to your shift this afternoon, and you hadn’t been able to get in a workout until an hour ago. What’s more, readjusting to London’s time zone after spending the month of August back home is taking a toll on your sleep. You sigh and try to relax your shoulders. The first term in your final year at university seems determined to bury you early. You press the auto-lock button on the set of car keys India had loaned you, then once more for good measure. You managed to finagle a guest spot in the garage beneath the building, though it’s your first time using it. It’s eerie and poorly lit down here; you tread lightly into the lift. You’d seen him again today—the blue-eyed man—and by this point it had just been… too often. You had convinced India to let you borrow her car to pick up some archives for your advisor in Ilford forty-five minutes out of your way. It was the first time you’d been to that part of London, and you were still getting used to driving on the other side of the road, so you were already on edge. You remember crossing the street over to a small brook beside the road and when you glanced over your shoulder, he was there in your wake, watching you. It was the middle of the day but you were alone, so you faked a phone call and took an indirect route to the Ilford Historical Society. It was enough to solidify your suspicions that something more serious is happening. On the drive home, you had mentally worked out a time in your schedule to visit the police department and file a report. The lift stops in the lobby on your way up, and your worries from the day promptly evaporate. You smile at your feet as Harry creeps inside the tiny corridor with a very measured, and even gate. Sylvia is passed out, her arms draped loosely around his neck. He’s in a charcoal grey tuxedo tonight and his usual glasses are switched out for contacts. You reach out to press the sixth-floor button, and Harry thanks you with the beginning of a smile. The two of you are stood at the back of the lift together, shoulder to shoulder facing the mirror, so it’s easy to indulge in your gaze toward the small child in his arms. You don’t try to hide the fact that you’re staring the way you might have a few months ago. Even in sleep, Sylvia’s tiny hand clings to the fabric of Harry’s collar. She nuzzles into his neck when the lift jolts upward. Her cheeks are rosy, and she wears a pyjama set covered in primary-colored dinosaurs. Her dark bob of curls—which have grown longer since you’d seen them last—are spread out across his shoulder, and her bloated toddler belly rises and falls against his chest. You smile absently at the short trail of memories you have of Sylvia, but your reverie is interrupted when you notice that Harry is looking directly into your eyes. It makes you do a double take. Could you have imagined it? Is that a blush? Had you embarrassed him? You’re still staring at each other in the reflection when the lift reaches the sixth floor. Your eyes dart to the floor, and you only allow yourself to look up once Harry is stepping out into the hall, well in front of you. He pauses in the doorway to turn around. “Goodnight,” he whispers. “Night.” You hesitate before adding, “Goodnight, Sylvia.” Harry’s smile only grows wider, as though the two of you had shared some fond inside joke. Something catches your eye when you arrive at your floor. You crouch down and pick up a plush kangaroo toy in the corner, flipping it over in your hands. It’s ratty, and has been washed so many times that the pink cotton on its ears is beading. One of the miniature black buttons for its eyes dangles loose, and the synthetic fur is matted. What was once chestnut has faded into a dull, tawny copper. “S.S.,” you read curiously. The initials are stitched in red to the bottom of the kangaroo’s long feet. The sound of the doors closing catches you off guard. You jump to your feet, tucking the small stuffed animal into your purse as you hurry down the hall and fish around in your bag for your keys. • saturday, 6th october 2:31 pm • You step into the lift, fasten in your earbuds, and tap the button on the keypad for the eighth floor. Today marks your third trip to the Ilford Historical Society this week. Soon you’re going to need to ask your advisor for reimbursement to fill India’s tank, but on the bright side you hadn’t seen the man with blue eyes since the first time you’d made the trip…You just hope that this means he’s retreating and not that he’s getting stealthier. You gnaw on the inside of your cheek and increase the volume of your classical playlist by a few notches. A flash of purple, white, and green bolts into the lift as the doors part at the lobby. Sylvia is in a Buzz Lightyear costume today. Harry’s tattooed arm swings through the half-open doors immediately behind her, going for the jet pack wings, but she squeals and escapes his hold. You watch the scene play out like a Tom and Jerry skit with La Traviata in the background as Sylvia darts around the corners of the lift and her father fails to corral her. Harry lunges for her, misses, lunges, misses again, then catches her by the elbow as she screams in laughter, squirming out of his grip. You silently pause your music and press the button for the sixth floor as Harry spreads his feet apart, catching Sylvia in his arms like a goalie as she tries to bowl through the closing doors. It’s fortunate that nobody else is trying to get in. She kicks her legs before adopting that pose children do when they don’t want to be held, and makes a rigid plank with her body. Hair disheveled and glasses sliding down his nose, Harry lurches for the keypad with his daughter wedged under his arm a few seconds after the doors close. “Oh.” He stops in his tracks once he sees the button for his floor is already illuminated. “Thanks.” You flash a quick smile. Harry sets Sylvia down breathlessly and she finds a hiding place behind him, her little arms wrapped around one of his knees. He leans against the back wall of the lift, the smallest backpack you’ve ever seen swinging from one hand with the initials, S.S. reappearing stitched onto one of the straps. You swallow and tug your earbuds out by their chord before slowly crouching down to eye-level with Sylvia. For a moment you look up at Harry because you feel the instinct to ask for permission for some reason, certain your expression is more serious than necessary. He’s frowning but he’s also smiling at you as though to gauge your next move—so are you, to some degree. You shift your eyes back to Sylvia, and reach cautiously into your purse. Sylvia’s eyes widen at the sight of the small kangaroo you retrieve from your bag, her mouth gaping in a tiny, square-toothed grin. It might just as well be Harry beaming at you himself with such a striking resemblance. Both of the kangaroo’s black button eyes are fastened tightly in place now. You make your voice light and ask, “Is this yours?” The sound of a zipper comes from above your head; you glance up to catch Harry pulling another kangaroo out of the backpack. How many kangaroos does she have? He passes the stuffed animal to Sylvia and you see now that it’s quite a bit larger than the one you’d found last week. It’s also different from yours because it has a long white stripe along its front with a wide, empty pouch halfway down its belly. Oh… perhaps it’s just the two. She cautiously approaches you with the larger toy in tow, until you’re close enough to snuggle the joey back into its mother’s pouch. She stumbles backward into Harry’s legs. You sigh in relief before rising to your feet. “Sylvia, can you say thank you?” Harry folds his arms behind his back and leans over to whisper against the top of his daughter’s head, but loud enough for you to hear. Her curls bounce as she bobbles her head in a bashful nod, wrapping an arm around dad’s leg again. “Thank you.” This child, you have to admit, is devastatingly cute. “We tore the flat apart looking for him this weekend,” Harry intones, shaking his head. “Where did you find him?” “In here,” you reply. He makes a noise, like the possibility had only just occurred to him. “Thank you.” “It was the least I could do.” You lean back against the wall opposite them as the lift reaches the sixth floor with a ding and you wave to the two of them on their way out. “Cheers.” Harry nods to you. “Say goodbye, Sylvia.” She gives you a small wave. Harry gently nudges her forward into the hallway with his foot. There is an interim of about ten seconds of quiet before Sylvia is hurtling back into the lift, making a beeline to you, and wrapping her arms around your legs. She beams up at you for the second time with a smile cut-and-pasted from her father. Bubbling laughter overcomes her, and you uncross your legs, unable to help yourself from joining in her smile. “Hello again!” you say, before it occurs to you that you probably shouldn’t be encouraging this behavior. “Vi,” Harry calls from outside the lift. She just giggles and buries her face into your knee. He appears in the quickly closing doorway, one hand keeping it open as he narrows his eyes. There’s something playful in it though, a practiced pretend serious. Your gazes catch and Harry winks, putting a finger to his lips. “Uh oh,” he says, “I think I hear a tickle monster!” Sylvia shrieks, but she’s not faster than her father, who’s crouched low to catch her by the sides, merciless fingers at work until the child instinctively releases you. She laughs and laughs and laughs as he scoops her up into his arms. “So sorry.” Harry’s apology is much less flustered than you would have expected. Sylvia wiggles in his grip, cracking up, euphorically naughty. You simply let out a breathy laugh as they finally both make it out of the lift together. Down the hall, you hear Sylvia’s giggle melt into a screech against gravity; you lean over to catch a glimpse of Harry flipping her upside down on his chest with her belly out, legs flailing back and forward over his shoulder. “Oh, you’re bad. You’re bad.” He does not show his daughter the mercy of waiting until they’re in the privacy of their apartment before the second round of tickling begins. “You’re gonna get Daddy in trouble.” • monday, 8th october 8:23 am • Riding in the lift alone is nice because you don’t have a full-length mirror in your apartment. You brush the cat hair off of the front of your sweater and fix one of the sleeves that had bunched up beneath all your layers. The yarn is a warm, autumnal bay that compliments your thick scarf and the gold buttons of your roomy black overcoat. You hear a ding and your eyes flash up to the floor indicator above the entrance. You almost lose your balance jumping back from your reflection when you see the illuminated number six. The doors separate and Harry steps in beside you, closer than usual. Today he’s in a forest green, double-breasted jumpsuit with faint pinstripes, and you can’t help but find it fitting that he works in an art museum. “Morning,” he murmurs. “Good morning.” You feel something tense pinned to the air between you two. “Did you fix Jojo’s eyes?” Harry asks after a beat, almost accusatory. Your eyes narrow at his reflection in the doors. It takes you a minute to summon to mind what he’s referring to. “Jojo?” He flushes a little, just enough to warm the tips of his ears. “The um—” Harry clears his throat, shaking his head. “He’s… the baby kangaroo.” If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was embarrassed. But as you’ve come to learn, Harry just loves his daughter immensely. “It was nothing,” you reply evenly. Harry lets out a light, almost defensive scoff. “You didn’t have to do that, you know.” “I know.” Part of you wonders if he’s the type to make a fuss over what you’d consider an innocuous gesture. You could see how an unsolicited favor from a stranger might come off as undermining to a young, single parent, come to think of it. The thought that you’d been the cause of Harry’s ire—or even his mild annoyance—makes your chest feel tight. The lift stops on the second floor. A group of three enters in staccato laughter, pulling your attention forward. Harry’s eyes meet yours in the reflection of the doors—just two seconds that maybe you could pretend were an accident—before you both glance away as though you’d been caught. The group leaves ahead of you into the lobby. “I just wanted to do a nice thing, you know. For her.” You’d been staring resolutely ahead in your admission, but dare yourself to glance sideways and look directly at Harry. “And for you, honestly.” You brush past Harry into the lobby without waiting for his usual beckoning you to go ahead, but sense him turn toward you at the last second. You do not look back. • wednesday, 7th november 8:23 am • “Ouch, shit―” You jerk your hand from your pocket, staring in disbelief at the tiny pinprick of blood welled on the tip of your pinky. Returning your hand carefully into your coat, you pull out the red paper flower just as the lift doors ding on the sixth floor and Harry walks in. Sucking on your finger is helping your wound, but consequently draws his smiling, vaguely concerned eyes. “Alright?” he asks. You nod with a little hapless shrug, holding up the offending fake petals with a black button center and protruding silver pin out the back. “Forgot I had this.” It’s only a slightly embarrassing admission. Commonwealth countries mark the day of the Armistice, November eleventh, in a particular, unfamiliar way; India had explained the Poppy Appeal briefly to you last week when the pins had begun to appear all over the city, and you finally had a spare pound coin for the volunteer offering you one yesterday after class. You have a scant three seconds to look at the poppy pinned smartly to the left lapel of Harry’s trench coat before he turns to face forward, but in looking down at the one in your hand, you realize you have no idea how he’s done it. Surely it can’t be that difficult? You frown down at your own jacket. A tentative stab of the pin into the fabric is met with an audible chuckle from the other side of the lift. You flush; Harry’s smiling gently with one corner of his mouth. You try a second time, going at it from a different angle. “You have no idea what you’re doing, do you?” You haven’t had enough coffee yet to justify how warm you’re getting. You shake your head, accepting defeat. “Best let me help you before you hurt yourself again.” Despite his offer, he makes no move to take the poppy until you sheepishly hold it out to him. Neither the mustached, emerald briefcase man nor the headset lady have appeared today, but the space of the lift seems remarkably smaller when Harry gently takes the flower and shuffles forward to get a grip on your coat. An impressive array of rings on each of his hands catches the light. You have no idea what to do besides stand ramrod straight. “Trick is to put the pin through twice so you’re not poking yourself on it all the time,” he explains, his eyebrows pulling together in focus. You watch his chest move as he breathes; the scent of Harry’s cologne wraps around you like an invisible shroud. It occurs to you that this is the longest interaction you’ve had since he noticed your careful restoration of Sylvia’s tiny treasured kangaroo. You wonder how long she’s had the pair of them. You also wonder if Jojo’s eye had been falling loose for a reason―if perhaps Sylvia preferred him a little rough around the edges, and it leads you again down a strange rabbit hole of is Harry upset that you did that? “I hope it’s okay that I fixed Jojo’s eye,” you venture. Harry pauses a moment, then laughs once, which draws you inadvertently closer together. “You’re funny. Which you shouldn’t be when I’m holding something sharp.” You almost stop breathing altogether. “Course it’s okay,” Harry continues without looking up. His nose is now scrunched as he pinches the tough wool. “She loves that thing, and I’m shit with sewing.” His eyes finally flick up to yours, a self-deprecating tilt to his mouth, and you smile tentatively. “Glad I could help.” With that, you’re quiet until he’s done and his concentrated frown relaxes into satisfaction. You watch Harry consider his handiwork, tracing the side of a petal with one of his fingers. “That should do it,” he says, stepping back. Your eyes meet again. You’ve reached the ground floor, but the doors simply sit open. “Looks nice.” He’s talking about the poppy. Your cheeks warm anyway. “Thank you.” Harry smiles slowly, as though he’s trying to pace the expression. “That’s alright.” He turns and ushers you out of the lift. “Have a good day.” “Same to you.” The edges of your poppy flutter as you turn the corner out of the lobby. Don’t turn around. Don’t ruin the moment. Who are you kidding? A quick glance over your shoulder reveals Harry loitering outside the lift, watching you. He starts a little, lifting a hand like he’s going to wave and dragging it over his hair instead. Harry turns abruptly. You almost feel bad for catching him out. You’re too busy walking faster and failing to smother a stupid grin all the way to campus. • thursday, 20th december. 4:11 pm • You’re thankful that everyone else in the parking garage has ruddy cheeks and runny noses from the storm—nobody would be able to tell by looking at you that you’d been crying all afternoon. Just when you thought you’d never see those blue eyes ever again, you’d felt a hand brush against yours on the crowded tube just hours ago. You turned to see whose pinky was resting atop your knuckles as he clutched onto the pole directly above your hand. The fear was immediate and visceral; every follicle of hair above your shoulders prickled, your lips went cold, and you couldn’t get yourself to start breathing again before stumbling back into the chest of some other unsuspecting passenger. How long had he been standing there? You bolted out of the doors the first chance you got, a good seven stops from home. You didn’t think you were followed but of course you couldn’t be sure, so you ducked into a coffee shop instead of jumping straight onto the next train. You used up all your data to call your parents, hardly able to hold your cell phone steady with the sheen of sweat on your palms. The police had no record of such a man you described. He was middle-aged, taller than you could have imagined so close up, and had a deformity or some sort of scarring on his upper lip. You would have recognized him if you stumbled across his photograph, but you’d gone through every headshot on the books within a ten-kilometer radius of London at the police station. You’d lost sleep combing through the online database of sex offenders in your area without any luck. And since you didn’t have a name or a concrete instance of harassment, they could only add the encounter to the file you’d started in October. Once you’d managed to get a hold of India, she immediately came to rescue you from the coffee shop and dropped you off at home. You insisted she pull into the gated underground garage rather than letting you off by the front doors. With a hand on your shoulder, she offered to stay the night. You had declined. There were some days when you swore you were going crazy, but all it took was one last look into his eyes on the tube today for you to know in your gut that he was real, he was watching you, and you were right to be afraid. You hadn’t heard the ding of the lift but you notice when the people around you begin to huddle on. It’s a tight squeeze inside. You sigh when you see that nearly every floor up to ten is illuminated on the keypad. You sneak into a corner by the doors and try to distract yourself by focusing on the overwhelming smell of rain carried into the lift on everyone’s rubber boots. A faint buzzing noise thrums overhead, and the light seems dimmer than usual—one of the bulbs in here must need replacing. The lift comes to a stop at the lobby. Your eyes are on the carpet, but you recognize a familiar pair of black leather boots ambling through the doors. You look up to catch Harry shaking the rain out of his curls with one hand. He licks his lips and scans the lift briefly, only moving from the entrance once he sees you by the keypad. His eyes change, the corner of his lips quirking up. Harry parts a few people to stand in front of you, chest to chest, carrying a box of Legos almost as tall as you, covered in fire trucks and construction vehicles. They’re the bigger, softer type of plastic blocks that come in lighter shades made for toddlers. You didn’t even know they made sets with so many pieces. It doesn’t seem necessary. The thing could be a column. Harry rests the box on the floor against his hip and even more people pack inside behind him, so many that you have to give up your corner spot which was already tight, and sandwich yourself in between Harry and the wall. And why is the person standing directly behind Harry trying to leave a voicemail? The two of you share a small laugh, looking down at your feet and shifting to get comfortable as the lift vibrates into motion against your back. Ding. Level two. Someone to the rear of the lift needs to get to the entrance. In order to let them through, Harry actually has to press up against you and prop his hand on the wall behind your head to avoid crushing you completely. “Sorry,” he says, strained. “It’s fine.” Ding. Level three. The last thing you need is for your heart to race like this after the mess of a day you’ve endured. To make matters worse (or better), Harry is close enough for you to feel the heat radiating off his body. You’re struck by the most staggering urge to just… lean forward a few inches. It would be so nice to bury your face in his sweatshirt, to be engulfed in the embrace of his arms, and to let yourself cry about your afternoon until you feel empty and full at the same time. Ding. Level four. You choose a button on his open black overcoat to stare at, flustered and humiliated by your own sensitivity. If it were any other afternoon you’d be having a field day with this but you’re too much of a coward to look anywhere near his face in your state. A single drop of rain falls from the end of Harry’s chin and lands on your collar. Ding. Level five. Your eyes are dry and puffy, your breathing is still ragged, and you seriously consider holding your breath altogether until you reach the sixth floor. You’d known since the coffee shop that you were going to cry the moment you stepped foot into your apartment tonight, but you hadn’t considered the possibility that it might happen sooner than that. You shake your head. Ridiculous. You look up idly to find that Harry is watching you. His expression seems serious now, oddly focused. You tilt your chin up incrementally. Harry licks his lips. Is anyone looking? How is nobody looking? You take a small breath and Harry’s gaze flashes again to your lips. Your palm brushes the back of his hand, hidden by the toy box, and he tilts his wrist toward you, spreading his fingers just enough to fit the tips of yours between his knuckles. His hand is cool from the rain and yours is warm from the car. How is someone still leaving the same voicemail? There’s space enough now in the lift for him to give you a few inches of distance so why is Harry drawing closer to you? Why is he leaning in? Ding. “It’s you,” you blurt, and swallow before adding more quietly, “This is your floor.” A few people stuff their cellphones back into their pockets, making their way into the hall. Harry clears his throat and leans over to lift the toy box. Your hands fall apart but he reaches out to gently brush the side of your arm in goodbye—unable, it seems, to meet your eyes. You watch him as he turns on his heel to shuffle out behind someone else, carding a hand through his hair. You close your eyes and exhale without a sound. You only open them in time to catch him glancing over his shoulder at you before rounding the corner. Neither of you had smiled. When the lift reaches the eighth floor, you almost forget to step off. You lean on the back of your door and sigh once you’re in your apartment, dropping your keys to the hardwood with a clatter. Alone in the dark, after one of the single most distressing days of your life, you press two clammy palms to your face and laugh—giddy—like a fool. • tuesday, 1st january 2:33 am • You swing your leg inelegantly out of the cab. Your foot slips on the road’s thin polish of ice. The ankle strap of your stiletto comes undone at the clasp as you only just remember that you began taking them off in the back seat. You laugh at yourself, nearly dropping your half-empty bottle of Prosecco, hobbling to the sidewalk through the rain with one shoe in hand. “Thanks—thank you, goodnight!” You wave your shoe in the air as the cab speeds away after having left a fifty-percent tip—it’s half past two on New Year’s Eve for Christ sake—and turn toward your building. Have the doors to the lobby always been this heavy? Perhaps it isn’t the best idea to try and hop back into your shoe while shouldering through the doorway, because you bang your head against one of the large, protruding handles with a metallic thud. “Fuck.” It hurts a little but the jello shots and bottle of Sangiovese you’d guzzled with India earlier are helping. You squint up because the lobby is spinning, and spy the outline of a man facing away from you with his hands in his pockets. He looks over his shoulder as he waits for the lift, lackadaisical. It’s a familiar profile. The half of his face visible to you is in shadow apart from the crescent moon-shaped hollow of his dimple sinking in as he smiles. “Hi,” Harry drawls with a chuckle. You step into your shoe without bothering to fix the ankle strap and wobble over to the lift. All night you had glided so effortlessly in your four additional inches. Now, you feel as though you’re walking a tightrope in flippers. “Hello.” You enunciate too much in your efforts to sound sober. You and Harry look at each other and smile until you laugh, at absolutely nothing at all. There’s no sign of his specs tonight; his hair is sopping, and the shoulders of his burgundy suit are damp. Harry gives you a once over. “You alright?” He’s slurring a little. You bob your head in a nod. “M’good.” The lift dings and you both lurch forward to step between the doors before Harry stumbles backward and gestures for you to go first. You almost fall forward again in your shoes and have to grip the wall on the way in to steady yourself. These need to come off. Harry moves to his usual corner, leaning against the back wall with a hand on either railing and you do the same in the next corner over. You shimmy off your heels to hold them in one hand while balancing your half empty bottle of Prosecco against your hip with the other. The carpet is coarse beneath your bare feet. You take a gulp of wine and the curled silver ribbon around its neck tickles your chin. You and Harry glance sideways at each other at the exact same moment, both of your heads leaning against the back wall of the lift. You have to lean forward and cover your mouth with the hand holding your shoes so you don’t spit out your drink in laughter. It’s not even funny, really. How many times had you both accidentally caught the other staring over the past year in this very room Harry’s chuckle builds into a laugh and the echo of it reminds you of Sylvia the day she’d clung to your legs. You’ve noticed that Harry’s eyes crinkle like hers, too, if he finds something especially funny. The laughter melts and you stretch the arm holding the bottle out to Harry. He looks down at it, then back up at you before taking it gently from your grasp and helping himself to a swig. “You know wha’s not fair? I’ve—” he hiccups. “I’ve got to wear a badge t’work. With my name on it. And I see you everyday—” “Almost,” you correct automatically. “Almost everyday… so you probably know my name.” Harry’s eyes narrow. “Do you know my name?” You nod, a bit delayed. He passes the bottle back to you and you admire the intricate embroidery on the cuffs of his sleeves. “I’ve got a pretty good guess.” “What’s your name?” Harry asks after a beat, rolling his back off the wall to lean on his shoulder and face you. “Charles doesn’t know either.” You tilt your head, frowning a little. “Who’s that?” Harry rests his pointer finger on top of his upper lip. You grin slowly before answering his question. Harry echoes you with an equally slow smile, his voice italicizing the sound of your name. It sounds like he’s saying someone else’s name—a person you’ve never even met. He says it again, like he needs to introduce himself to each letter. Your heart is about the only part of your body able to move quickly. Harry smiles widely. It’s as though every other one he’s given you before had just been practicing for this moment. “Nice to meet you.” You wedge your shoes and Prosecco beneath one arm, taking a step forward with your free hand outstretched. Harry shuffles to meet you halfway in a handshake and the height difference between you feels staggering barefoot. You remember the feeling of his hand in yours when it was hidden by the Lego box. It would be so easy to just shift a little and clasp them together the way you had before. You can smell the memory of whiskey on his breath and see the flush of his cheeks close up. “You look like a disco ball.” You laugh and he releases you, like the sound had awoken his sense of propriety. His eyes take you in again, almost reflecting the shimmer of sequins scattered across the fabric of your dress before he looks back up at you. “Yeah,” you agree, tugging the hem an inch down your bare legs. “My best friend dragged me to some formal thing the other American students were trying to throw together. Really random.” Harry nods so you go on after a pause. “You’re handcuffed to someone and have to finish a bottle of wine, but India and I didn’t coordinate beforehand so we both brought one.” “Seems like fun.” “It certainly was.” You raise the Prosecco and it sloshes up against the neck of the bottle in tiny waves. “And you,” you raise your eyebrows, “look like a Turkish rug.” Harry grins, inclining his head as if that were the highest compliment. “Where’s Sylvia tonight?” His face is full of mock surprise. Harry pats the breast pocket of his jacket before running his hands over the front and back of his trousers. He looks over his shoulders, comically frantic, scanning each corner of the lift until you begin to laugh. Harry smiles wider, a little too pleased with himself. “She’s with her mum and her mum’s fiancé this week—so I guess her, um… soon-to-be other mum… They were having a little gathering at their new place tonight and we did the countdown a few hours early for her.” “How sweet.” Without a second thought, you inch closer and begin reaching for a stray piece of confetti in his hair. You can tell you’re drunk because you indulge a little in combing your fingertips through one of Harry’s curls, though it’s probably subtle enough for him not to notice. He goes very still. “Did—did you press the thing?” Harry stammers, his attention jerking to the keypad. “I didn’ press the thing.” “Oops,” you laugh, and catch a glimpse of yourself in the reflection of the doors as you turn to watch Harry hit the sixth and eighth floor buttons. Though the rain has offset India’s efforts to tame your hair, what surprises you more is the bright-eyed expression on your face. It’s out of character for you to feel this exhilarated over a simple drunken conversation. But something delightedly nervous hums beneath your skin all the same. “Why are you so wet?” you ask as Harry returns from the keypad. A tad closer, you note, than where he’d been standing before. You lean on your shoulder to face him and he slouches a little to meet your height. “Walked home,” Harry replies. Your jaw drops. “In the pouring rain?” “S’like ten minutes—really not bad.” Harry shrugs. “I didn’t mean to get so pissed tonight. My New Year’s resolution was to go a little easy on the booze.” He shakes his head in a chuckle. “I can’t really handle what I used to since the little one came along. M’not much of a drinker anymore.” The lift jumps as you reach the sixth floor and your arm flies out to balance yourself in the same moment that Harry offers both hands to catch you. You clutch his forearm and then immediately let go. “Sorry,” you murmur, taking one last look at him. “Well, goodnight Harry. Happy New Year’s.” The look he is giving you is peculiar—on the verge of resignation, but not quite letting go of all hope. As though the last sober part of him is leaning forward on its elbows, asking if you agree without telling you first what it wants. Harry cranes his neck around to look down the stretch of hallway, his head falling back against the wall with a gentle thump. “You know, New Year’s isn’t really over until you finish all the champagne,” he declares, and you laugh a little in surprise. “Prosecco.” He waves away the correction. “Fine, all the Prosecco.” “New Year’s isn’t over until you get every last piece of confetti out of your hair,” you challenge. Harry raises his eyebrows, looking back to you. If he doesn’t get off soon, the doors are going to close. “New Year’s isn’t over until your shoes come off in the lift,” he shoots back. You burst out in a laugh. “New Year’s isn’t over until you’ve broken your resolution two hours into January.” Harry rolls his eyes. He smirks a little and it’s annoyingly charming in the dim, golden glow of the lift’s broken light. He’s stalling. All at once, you’re acutely aware of the lingering smell of rain and the faint hum of the light fixture overhead. You swear you can hear the echo of that never-ending voicemail from the day you’d slotted your fingers into his like it was a secret, just an arm’s length away from where the two of you stand now. He had tried to kiss you once before and you had stopped him. But now, in this moment, with your heart in your throat, you desperately want him to try again. Harry starts to speak and you don’t wait for him to finish. “Well, New Year’s isn’t over—” “—until you kiss someone at midnight.” You’re hyper aware of your own breathing in the daunting silence that follows. The lift doors seal closed. Harry is close enough for you to see the flecks of hazel in his eyes like sea glass. He floats his hand up as though he’s going to cup your jaw, but traces the tip of his middle finger in a line up your cheek to push back your hair so lightly it tickles. His jaw flexes and just when you swear he isn’t going to, Harry leans in. It’s gradual, as though he’s waiting for you to change your mind, but your heads are tilting and then the tips of your noses brush. If you turn, even minutely, the corner of your mouth will meet his. You can feel your pulse thumping in the side of your neck. It dawns on you that you’re both simply waiting to see who is going to do it. “It’s not midnight,” Harry breathes. “Don’t tell me you’re a stickler for the rules.” The warmth and dew of his laugh grazes your cheek. With that, Harry brushes his mouth against yours. It feels painstakingly tender, like he’s never kissed anybody before. You’re so spellbound that you’re hardly even sure how to reciprocate something so soft. Harry’s bottom lip hovers over the very tip of your cupid’s bow just before he pulls away. Was that even a kiss? The very edges of your mouths had met, but only just. You still feel the tingle of where his lips had been moments ago. You open your eyes and Harry is a few inches away now, looking down at you. His hand is still ghosting the side of your face, like he’s afraid he might break you. When had your own hand slid flat against his chest beneath the lapel of his suit? “Is this a good idea?” you whisper, sliding your hand out to trace one of the round, fabric buttons with your fingertip. He swallows roughly. “Maybe not.” “Okay.” “Okay,” he yields. But neither of you move away. “Maybe this should just stay between us,” you suggest after a beat, heart sinking in your chest. “Well then if it’s just staying between us…” Before you have the chance to inhale, Harry presses his mouth against yours, harder, like he means it this time. His lips are warm and soft as they move with yours. You’re on your toes as one of his hands slides to the back of your neck, the other snaking around your waist to pull you into him. It still isn’t close enough. It’s surreal to be kissing him after a year. How much time had lapsed in total since you’d seen him that first day you moved in? How many mornings had been spent beside each other in silence? You’d spoken through side glances and subdued smiles from opposite corners of a crowded lift more than you ever truly had with words. But this… this feels like threads made up of every intimacy you’ve ever shared in this tiny room pulling you together at last. You pull apart just before the lift dings on the eighth floor. You’re both somewhat winded as you rest your foreheads together, and you release two unintended fistfuls of his jacket. Harry slides his hands down your bare arms to cup your elbows, his thumbs stroking circles in the soft crook of your forearm. “Have some water before you go to sleep.” “I will,” you chuckle. You’re unsure why either of you are speaking so softly, there’s no need. “Goodnight, Harry.” “Goodnight.” He says your name like a promise—like he’s determined to make up for all the days he didn’t get the chance to use it. You didn’t know it could sound like that. “Happy New Year’s.” You smile over your shoulder before padding barefoot into the hall as he reaches out to push the sixth-floor button for the second time. The last thing you’re able to see through the closing doors of the lift is Harry rubbing a thoughtful hand over his stubble, smiling down at his feet. (part two)