#why r u still reading these tags was the fic not entertaining enough?

[pluviophile-imagines]

Washing Dishes

in which sero’s been your roommate for almost nine months, but you don’t know much about him. now, though, you’re both stuck social distancing in your apartment, and it’s hard not to fall for a guy when you’re washing dishes together

sero hanta x reader

word count: 9k genre: fluff, pro hero au, roommate au, slow burn type: one-shot reader: neutral (no pronouns, neutral terms, neutral clothing) warnings: none

part of the alone together collab

sero finds you there, in front of the sink.

“what are you doing up? It’s late.”

waiting for him, you realize then. it hits you like a sack of bricks to the head, the fact that you hadn’t been able to sleep because you’d been worried about him, and that you’d left your room so that you’d run into him.

“can’t sleep,” you settle on telling him.

he stands there for a moment, regarding you, hair still wet from his shower and presumably only just having gotten in pajamas. you’re in your own—you’ve been ready for bed for hours, since just after he’d left for his shift.

“c’mere,” he says finally, reaching forward to take your hand, firm yet gentle. “let’s watch a movie.”

You’ve had more than a few roommates in your life. Growing up you’d shared a room with your younger sister, your dorm in high school was a rare three-person room, and once you’d moved on to college it was only a revolving door of new people to live with.

Moving into your first apartment had been a little intimidating, especially combined with the start of senior year and a new internship intended to turn into a career come graduation. You were tentative at best to answer the ad—but it took little more than a quick Google of the name to decide that Sero Hanta had seemed to be telling the truth about being a pro hero. When you met him he was certainly the man you’d seen in the sports festival videos and pictures.

Now, nine months later, you couldn’t be happier with the decision. Sero’s a model roommate; he’s never missed a rent payment, buys his share of groceries, cleans his room and takes out the trash when it’s his turn. Even his style of decor is remarkably top-notch for a 22 year old man.

If you had one complaint though, it would be that he’s a goddamn ghost.

Sure, he answers your texts, and obviously when groceries show up and rent is paid you know he’s not dead (Well, he’s a pro hero. Presumably you’d know from the news if he died). The two of you run into each other in the apartment perhaps once a week, tops. He leaves early in the morning and comes home after sunset; sometimes he’ll wake you up with a string of hushed cusses after tripping over some piece of furniture or your cat.

Aside from that, though, he’s honestly the best roommate you’ve ever had. And to be fair, you’re probably a bit of a ghost too, between your internship and your classes and applying for grad school, plus tutoring for a little extra cash.

Sometimes you think pro heroes have it easy, getting to jump right into their careers out of high school.

It’s a strange feeling when it all falls apart. It’s your senior year. You’ve imagined getting your diploma since your second year of high school. You had a job waiting for you. Mere days before your school shifts to online classes, you get accepted to your first-choice doctorate program—a full-ride that they’re paying you to attend. The resultant celebratory bar visit is the last group event your little circle of friends does together before social isolation is put in place. Your boss sends out an email saying that you’ll begin working from home at the same time your classes go online. Most of your work was in a lab though, and you have a strange little laugh with your two fellow interns wondering what the hell you’ll be doing from home.

And just like that, everything stops. You’re home for good, all human contact now occurring through a screen—all but your ghost of a roommate, that is.

You run into him for the first time in two weeks, on the first day of your Official Social Isolation, in your kitchen where you’re cooking (or, rather, while pretending to cook for your own sanity while you wait for your rice to finish).

“Damn, what’s that rice cooker ever done to you?”

You probably jump a meter in the air, whirling around to face Sero as he grabs an apple and moves to the sink to rinse it off. For half a moment, your early-morning brain panics at the sight of his hero uniform, an instinctual burst of oh god what’s a pro hero doing in my house what happened who’s in trouble, but then you remember that the fucker’s just your roommate who you never see.

“Shit man, don’t scare me like that.” You place a hand on your heart.

“Sorry,” he says, but the smile on his face says he’s more poking fun at you than he is apologetic. You stick your tongue out at him childishly and get an amused chuckle back.

You turn back to your rice cooker (its crime is taking too long to cook your damn rice) and lean on your counter with your chin resting in the palm of your hand. “What are you doing here? Aren’t pro heroes essential workers?”

“Yeah, but I’m part of a big agency. They cut my hours so I only patrol twice a week on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and I do everything else from home.”

You give him an affirmative hum to show you understand as the rice cooker finally indicates it’s ready by giving out a little chime. Then your brow furrows as his answer truly registers. “Wait, why are you in your uniform? It’s Monday.”

Sero groans, making you turn back to face him and see his annoyed grimace. “I’ve got a Zoom meeting in,” he pauses, glancing up at the kitchen clock, “fifteen minutes and Edgeshot’s kinda a stickler for this stuff. So. Full spandex. Even though I’m not leaving.”

“Comfy.”

“We should have dinner tonight, talk things through,” he says suddenly.

“Uh, yeah, sure. Not like I’m going anywhere.” You both fall silent, nodding slightly before you gesture to the rice cooker beside you. “Want some rice with that apple?”

He glances at the fruit in his hand, a single bite taken out of it, then turns back to you and nods. “Yeah, sure. Sounds like a balanced breakfast.”

Your little snicker in response seems to make him smile as you get out two bowls and serve him half the rice. He gives you a little nod of thanks before turning to retreat back towards his room, though not before you raise two fingers in a lazy salute and say, “Thank you for your service, hero!”

You don’t see his face, but the shaking of his shoulders tells you he’s laughing.

That night over dinner, Sero tells you that his patrols are 5am to 11am on Tuesdays and 9pm to 3am on Thursdays. He assures you he’s only in contact with his patrolling partners, Chargebolt and Vine.

“Cool,” you say when he tells you over dinner that night, attention still on your food before you.

Across the kotatsu, Sero laughs. “I forgot you’re not into the hero thing.”

“Sorry, was I supposed to recognize them?”

“Kaminari—Chargebolt—would take issue with you not knowing him. Shiozaki wouldn’t care. She’s humble like that.” He shoots you a grin. “What about you, though? What’s your quarantine plan?”

You sigh, resisting the urge to flip back in despair at the thought of all your responsibilities suddenly shifting online. “I’ve still got classes, so. Doing those. And I’m tutoring underclassmen, just… through a screen now. I dunno how the hell I’m going to work my internship without a lab but my mentor expects me to do it, so I’ll figure it out.”

“Sounds exciting.”

“Exhausting, more like. But I guess I won’t be starved for social interaction.”

“Well, we’ve got each other, right?”

Sero raises his fist, knuckles toward you, and you laugh lightly as you raise your own to knock against it. “Yeah, guess we do.”

“Your cat joined me for my meeting today, just by the way,” he says as he returns his attention to the food. “He was sleeping in my chair. I think he’s been doing it for a while; he seemed pretty confused when I moved him.”

“That’s where he went? I hunted fifteen minutes for that bastard. I was late to my lecture.”

“Yeah, he was harassing me.”

“Ah, sorry.” You wrinkle your nose. “If it really bothers you I can keep him in my room—“

“No, no, not at all!” He shakes his head frantically. “Don’t do that to the poor guy, if it bothered me I wouldn’t have let you move in with him in the first place.”

“Oh thank god,” you sighed. “I don’t think he’d stay put.”

“He’s a bit of a menace, isn’t he?”

“I think it’s your fault for having good taste in interior design.”

Another laugh; you have the slightest urge to smile at it as he looks at you and says, “What can I say? The chair’s a pussy magnet.”

You choke on your water, bursting into laughter that has you doubled over. It’s so unexpected, catching you entirely by surprise, and it’s all you can do to gasp out, “Never mind, Ryu’s not allowed in your room anymore. You’re a bad influence.”

He lets you calm down with minimal denial of your accusation, the conversation lulling as you two finish up your food. You’re both standing and clearing the dishes when he speaks.

“This was nice. Why don’t we spend more time together?”

“Busy,” you reply easily. “I don’t think it’s either of our faults, really.”

Sero gives a low hum of agreement as he places his dishes in the sink. “Well, we should try to hang out more. You’re fun.”

“I won’t give you much of a choice,” you snicker. “I don’t have two pro heroes to hang out with twice a week. You’re all I’ve got.”

“Alright, consider me forewarned.” He turns to you, holding out a dry towel. “You washing or drying?”

He doesn’t come out for breakfast the next day. You’re kind of disappointed, but you notice that his door is closed and you can hear his voice low through the wood, so you assume he’s on call with someone. You wouldn’t have been able to stay and talk very long anyway, so you eat a quick breakfast and search briefly for Ryu.

When you return to your own room an hour later, his door is still closed. Your cat search was a failure, but you don’t want to repeat your tardiness from yesterday, so you decide to leave your door open as you join your online class—it’s an elective soil microbiology course taught by your favorite professor, and there are only six other students.

Twenty minutes into the call, a knocking on your open door frame makes you look up and pull an earphone out of your ear.

Sero’s standing there, sheepish smile on his face and cat in hand. Ryu has clearly made himself at home in the man’s arms.

“Sorry,” your roommate whispers. “Didn’t know you were on call.”

You shake your head. “I’m muted, it’s just a class.”

He approaches your bed and you twist in your desk chair to watch him set your cat down on the plush surface. Then he turns to you and raises an arm to rub at the back of his neck. “I stole your cat.”

“I can see that.”

“He was apparently in my chair when I shut the door, and by the time I did notice I was already well into the meeting.”

You wrinkle your nose. “I hope he wasn’t too much of a distraction.”

“Nah, he’s an angel. No worries.”

“Ok, well, just don’t make it a habit, catnapper.”

“Wow, calling me names? After I returned him safe and sound? Maybe I should have kept him.”

“Don’t you dare, he’s—“

“Is that Cellophane?”

Your head snaps to your laptop screen, where one of your fellow students has just spoken. Your professor doesn’t even look that annoyed; he’s stopped lecturing to come closer to the screen and take off his glasses for a better look.

“Oh my god, it is!” A different student, saying your name in disbelief. “Are you dating Cellophane?”

“No, he’s just my roommate,” you say, then remember belatedly that you’re muted as Sero approaches your desk from behind.

“Are they talking about me?”

“He’s just my roommate,” you repeat once you’ve turned on the mic. Behind you, Sero grins and gives a little wave to the camera.

The girl who’d initially spoken lets out a wistful sigh. “Lucky. He’s so cool.”

“What are they saying?” Sero asks.

You hesitate, debating whether to ask him to leave or unplug your headphones, but the decision is made for you as your professor claps his hands and calls attention back to him.

“As fascinating as our classmate’s living situation might be, let’s get back to actinomycetes, shall we?”

The class grumbles in agreement, and you turn to face Sero as you tell him, “Professor Watanabe says you’re distracting.”

Sero gives a little pout, causing a chorus of cooing from half the students that you’re kind of glad he can’t hear—you’re a little embarrassed for them, and while you’re sure he’s used to it something tells you he’d be a little embarrassed too—before he finally turns and exits, leaving you to return to your class.

The two of you fall into a routine. You have dinner together, and more often than not lunch and breakfast, too. You’re more than thankful for it; it gives you a reason to get ready before noon. You find yourself  disappointed on Tuesdays when he’s gone in the morning, and more often than not after dinner once the dishes are clean the two of you will watch a movie or binge some show.

You find that you like Sero’s company a lot. Conversation always flows smoothly, and even now that you’re cooking and cleaning together he still does his fair share. He’s kind of a terrible movie watcher—you’d never take him to a theater—but you’re the same way and it’s just the two of on your couch so you don’t mind his constant interruptions.

You get into a conversation about high school about a week in, standing side by side at the sink with him elbows deep in soapy water and you with a towel in hand.

“How in the world did you manage to be a stoner living in dorms at the best hero school in the country?” You’re laughing, shaking your head in disbelief.

“Very, very carefully. Lots of edibles, rarely anything that smells. Believe me, the idea of our sensei figuring us out was almost enough to stop us. But then it became a challenge…” Sero chuckles, clearly lost in a memory. “It was always Kaminari’s fault when we almost got caught. He had to be supervised constantly.”

“You’ve known him that long? I never kept in touch with my high school friends. We all went to different unis, so I just… made new ones.”

“Really? Most of my friends were in my class. Shiozaki went to UA, too. She was in class B though, not class A. We’ve all kept pretty close, with a few exceptions.” He pauses, wincing slightly and raising a hand to rub at the back of his neck. “I guess that makes it seem like I never really grew up, huh? But we all went into the same field, and being able to work well together is pretty vital in the industry. Plus, well, all the shit we went through… trauma’s a pretty quick way to become inseparable, I guess.”

“Oh my god.” You pause. You’re so stupid. Did you really not know? “You were in that class A? With like, Deku and Ground Zero? And,” you lift your hand to hold it in front of you, fingers in a claw motion and palm almost on your face, “that villain guy? Shigaraki?”

Sero snickers. “You make it seem like Shigaraki was in our class.”

“I had no idea. Holy shit.”

“I can’t believe you know Bakugo. You don’t know anyone, you barely know the top ten.”

“That’s Ground Zero, right? One of my friends loves him, she won’t shut up about him. Got all kinds of merch. I think he’s kinda a dick, but I guess she’s proof that it works.”

“Nah, he’s just a dick, he’s not doing it for attention. But you’re right, it works. Don’t ask me how.”

You scrunch up your nose, thinking about the photos your friend has shown you. “To be honest I think he just has hot person privilege. Not really my type, personally. Too… aggressive. And big? He’s all,” you puff out your chest, going up on gesturing with your arms like you’re huge and buff like the man you’re talking about, “broad. I like string beans.”

You say it casually, but it hits you once the words come out that the man next to you is a string bean. Shit. You hope he doesn’t think you’re coming on to him. Wouldn’t that make things awkward.

Then there’s a little voice in the back of your head that says if you really weren’t attracted to him you wouldn’t have thought of it.

Sero’s laughter—it’s become so familiar now, you’ve started to expect it around the apartment—breaks your train of thought.

“That’s good. I don’t know what I’d do if you turned out to be a fan of Bakugo, and I’m saying that as one of his closest friends.”

There’s relief in the statement; it seems he’s oblivious to his string bean status. You steal a side-eye glance at him, catching a nice view of his profile as he’s looking down at the sink focused on a bowl. It’s not something you’d have noticed weeks ago, but his undercut is starting to grow out, and his bangs are beginning to hang over his eyes.

Okay, fine. You’ll admit that you think he’s cute—aesthetically, that is. It’s not weird to find a friend hot.

“I never would have guessed you and Ground Zero were close.”

“Yeah, yanno how big groups are, we kinda section off and Bakugo ended up part of mine, along with Kaminari and…” Sero pauses briefly, shaking his head with a smile, “oh, I was gonna go listing off their hero names but I guess you wouldn’t know them.”

“Try me. I have friends.”

“Uh… Red Riot, Earphone Jack, and Alien Queen are the other three. They’re my best friends.”

“Yeah, see, one of my other friends is really into female heroes so I do know two of those. Red Riot sounds familiar but I probably wouldn’t recognize him.”

“Oh really? You’re not just pretending not to care about this hero stuff so I let my guard down and you can kidnap me because you’re an insane fan who’s obsessively in love with me?”

“Yes, that’s exactly it. You’ve found me out, foiled my dastardly plans.” You raise your hand, pressing the back to your forehead and tilting your head upward dramatically.

Sero nudges you with his shoulder playfully, making you break character and laugh with him.

“Okay, fine, you’re not faking it. I’m still a little insulted you didn’t know me, though I guess that’s not surprising. I don’t even have merch yet.”

“Don’t worry.” You return his gesture, bumping him back with your own shoulder. “You’re my favorite hero now.”

“That’s corny.”

“You’re corny.”

“Your mom’s corny.”

You can’t contain your giggles. “That’s your comeback?”

“Better than yours.”

“Not better than your mom last night.”

“Oho!” He raises a hand, flicking water at you. “Getting bold, are we?”

You retaliate with your towel, swatting him lightly on the arm. “You started it!”

The next day, you have a study session with two of your best friends planned over Discord. None of you have the same major (Himari’s studying psychology and Tetsurou is studying physics) but according to Himari it’s important to set aside a time to study, so you call at noon and eat lunch in front of the screen pretending to read your textbook.

Tetsurou’s rambling on about his parents and their insistence of eating dinner together three days a week (and how annoying it is, when he’s the second oldest of six children and they’re all at home along with his grandparents). Himari’s doing a better job of engaging than you are. You’re focused on your ramen.

“And Yua always makes the dog sit at the table with us. Mom’s always like, ‘she’s six, she likes it, just let her,’ and fine okay. But there’s ten of us at the table! The dog is just overkill.”

“I think it’s cute,” Himari says through a bite of rice. “As long as she doesn’t feed the dog.”

“She doesn’t. She just pets him. He sits at her feet anyway when we finally convince her to let him leave—hoping for scraps, I’m sure, but dad’s careful.”

“That’s good.” Himari frowns, raising an eyebrow at you. “Did you drop something?”

“No, it’s just,” you turn around briefly, glancing at your bed to find it empty, “Ryu’s usually in my room for lunch, I don’t know where he is.”

“Did you check under your ramen?”

You’re lifting your bowl before Tetsurou’s words fully register. By the time they sink in, he’s already cackling and you’re glaring at him through the screen. “I’m gonna kill you, fucker. Can’t believe I fell for that.”

“You really checked!”

“Fuck you! I’m looking for my cat, asswipe, that wasn’t an invitation for you to—“

A knock at your door frame draws your attention. Sero’s standing there, both arms braced above the entrance and Ryu perched happily over his shoulders. You’re not sure when your cat grew close enough to him to do that, but there’s a little tingly feeling that you get when you see it.

“We interrupting something?”

Your face is hot as you go to mute your friends, but before you can press the button Himari squeals.

“Is that Sero?”

Your head snaps back to your laptop to glare at her. “Who else would it be, Mari?”

“You know she only said that to get his attention,” Tetsurou snarks. He’s grinning though; used to your mutual hero-crazed friend.

Himari doesn’t acknowledge his jab, primarily because Sero has stepped into your room to squat right next to your chair, Ryu still on his shoulders. He’s so close to your arm that you can feel goosebumps forming. It’s distracting; your attention doesn’t stray from the thought that he’s millimeters away from touching you until Himari says your name.

“…never let us visit,” she was saying, lip sticking outward in an exaggerated pout. “I kept saying, well, what’s the point of a hero roommate if you don’t let your friends meet him?”

“Generally speaking, the point of a roommate is to help pay bills,” you answer matter-of-factly.

“It’s okay, I forgive you, ‘cause I get to talk to him now.”

“Oh, thank goodness,” you drawl, “I don’t know how I’d live with myself otherwise.”

“It’s nice to meet you two,” Sero says. “I was starting to think my roommate was lying about having friends.”

“Hey!”

Tetsurou smirks, sitting up straight. You swear the man only looks happy when he has a chance to pick on your or Himari. “That’s a reasonable assumption, we’re the only one’s they’ve got.”

“Wow! This is bullying. I can’t believe you’re ganging up on me.”

“You should be used to it.” Tetsurou shrugs.

“Saying I have no friends, telling me to look under my ramen bowl for my cat… I don’t know why I waste time on you, dickhead.”

“Oh wait, you were yelling at him when I came in?” Sero looks up at you for confirmation, then turns back to the screen. “I was gonna ask who I needed to beat up.”

Tetsurou opens his mouth, then closes it quickly, pulling a face before talking. “I’d say square up but it’s occurred to me that you’re a pro hero and I have at least a little self preservation, so, I’ll say I did nothing wrong and I’ve been framed.”

“You took advantage of me,” you accused.

“Well, you looked anyway and that’s your fault.”

Himari gasps, voice scandalized as she speaks. “Tetsu, we don’t victim blame in this house!”

“I’m not in your house,” he counters.

“Sounds like I do need to beat you up, then, for my dear roommate’s dignity,” Sero cuts in. “Can’t have someone going around tricking people into looking under their ramen bowls for cats. That’s villainous behavior.”

“You’re the one who stole my cat, though,” you point out. “So really, whose fault is it?”

Sero gasps now, turning to you. “I can’t believe this accusation. After I brought him back? After I went to war for you?”

“I never asked you to.”

“Fine.” He stands, keeping your cat on his shoulders. “I’m taking Ryu, then.”

“What? No, he’s my cat!”

“I’m confiscating him. Mine now.” He turns to leave and you jump up from your chair.

“Sero!” you whine. “Catnapper! What kind of a hero are you!”

“I’ll have you know I’m a very—ack!”

Ryu jumps off of him suddenly, making a beeline for your bed. Sero stumbles back at the unexpected abandonment, falling flat on his ass and left dazed while you keel over in laughter.

You almost feel bad, but then he’s laughing too and when you gasp out, “are you okay?” he responds with an affirmative.

He takes your hand when you hold it out to him. He’s heavier than you expect, but you manage to help him up, and you're a little bit sad when he leaves, closing your door behind him now that the cat has been returned.

Once he’s gone, though, you remember that you’re on call with your friends.

“We should probably get started,” you say, sitting back down in the chair. Tetsurou and Himari don’t respond; when you look up, they’re both staring at you with expressions of people who know something. “What?”

Tetsurou shakes his head, looking down at his textbook. “Nothing.”

“Not important,” Himari dismisses.

Days later, on a Thursday morning, you’re sitting eating breakfast when Sero places a tape dispenser in front of you.

You frown when you see it, looking up at him about to ask him where he got it, but he speaks before you can. “Left the container out on the balcony for two days, got it on Tuesday. You said you needed tape.”

You did; your disposable one had run out during your study session and you mentioned you’d buy some online at dinner that night.

Upon closer inspection, though, you notice that the tape dispenser isn’t disposable. And it’s… the same color yellow as his hero costume, with white and black zig-zag accents.

“It’s…”

“Merch? Your merch? You bought me a Cellophane tape dispenser?” Then you remember that he’d told you he didn’t have any merch yet, and suddenly the proud smile on his face makes sense. “Oh my god, you bought me a Cellophane tape dispenser!”

“There we go, that’s what I was looking for! But I didn’t buy it. It’s still unreleased, but they gave me some stuff early ‘cause it’s, yanno, mine. And that’s really cool.”

“Dude, that’s so cool!” You jump up, throwing your arms around him in a hug. “Congrats! This is awesome!”

He’s stunned for a moment, clearly not expecting the hug, but he doesn’t refuse it. Instead, he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you around in a clumsy circle that makes you yelp with surprise and joy.

When he sets you down, he turns back briefly to pull out a microfiber blanket. It’s high quality; thick stripes of white, black, and that familiar yellow zig-zagging across the fabric, and his hero name in the center, backed by the agency’s logo.

“This is also for you. Well, Ryu, probably, but you.”

You take it giddily, feeling how soft it is with wonder. “I’m sure he’ll love it.”

“I have, uh, something else too? But if you don’t want it that’s okay.”

You furrow your brow, stepping over to the table to drop the blanket near the tape dispenser (the irony in that hitting you, suddenly, and making you hold back laughter wondering whose idea that was and hoping they got a raise). “Why wouldn’t I?”

By the time you turn around, he’s holding up a hoodie. It’s just black, with thin rings of white and yellow on both arms—subtle, as hero merch goes. You’d feel comfortable wearing it outside, if you could.

“Well, uh, the other things are new? But I’ve kind of had this one for a few months now, and I got a newer version with this latest batch. If you want that one that’s fine! But it’s got my hero name and the agency logo like the blanket and I figured this one was more your speed. I washed it! A bunch! Obviously! I wouldn’t give you a dirty hoodie or whatever and gosh this was a bad idea I should have just left it with the blanket and the tape dispenser—“

He cuts himself off when you laugh, looking up to meet you with the cutest puppy-dog eyes and hell, if you’d intended to say no (which you hadn’t been) that would have convinced you.

“Of course I want it. You’re my favorite hero, after all.”

You could swear he turns a little bit pink, but when he’s smiling so wide it’s hard to tell.

Sero has patrol that night, but the Friday afterwards you wear the hoodie to watch a movie with him.

It’s some action flick. You don’t really pay much attention to the actual plot—no more than it takes to harp on it with him, anyway—and you sit tucked into one corner of the couch with your feet tucked under you. He’s on the other side, head propped in his hand.

An hour into the movie, you two have migrated a little closer. Your legs are draped over his lap, he’s leaning so his head is braced on the back of the couch near yours. You think it might be a little uncomfortable for him, but he assures you that he’s fine.

You’re awoken in the middle of the night by the TV finally switching off. You’re barely aware of the time; the room is pitch black, so presumably the middle of the night. It takes a moment, but slowly your sleepy mind registers your surroundings. You’re laying on the couch, half on top of Sero, head resting on his arm which is wrapped around your shoulders. There’s a blanket thrown lazily over the two of you.

If you were slightly more awake, you’d likely have had the awareness to get up and move to your own bed. But when you turn your body just slightly, the arm around your shoulders tightens, and Sero…

He fucking nuzzles into you, buries his face into your hair. He’s still asleep, clearly, but in your foggy, half-awake state it’s still enough to stop you in your tracks. You can just… stay, right? It’s so nice, all warm and cozy—there’s no real reason to leave, right?

You let yourself go back to sleep in his arms.

In the morning, you’re not really sure if it was real or a dream. You wake up in your own bed, still dressed in the hoodie he’d given you. You don’t mention it to him when you run into him in the kitchen, and he doesn’t, either. So you don’t talk about it.

You’re on call with your friends when Himari notices the tape dispenser.

“Is that—“ she cuts herself off with a laugh, grinning like she’s won the lottery. “Is that a Cellophane brand tape dispenser?”

“Hmm?” You look down to see the very item on your desk, just barely visible in the corner of your video. “Oh, uh, yeah. Sero gave it to me ‘cause I ran out of my disposable one.”

“I thought Cellophane didn’t have any merch,” Tetsurou muses, leaning backward in his chair. Clearly not particularly engaged with the conversation, but not complaining about a distraction, he crumples up a piece of paper into a ball, lazily tossing it over his face and catching it as it falls back down only to repeat the motion.

“Apparently his agency’s about to release a line for their more popular sidekicks. That’s what he told me, anyway.” You pause, pursing your lips. “Actually, I wasn’t supposed to tell you that. Whoops.”

“A tape dispenser feels a little on the nose for Cellophane.” Himari giggles. “Is it his tape?”

“It’s definitely not his tape.”

“Pity.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes with slight amusement. “You hero fans are weird, yanno that?”

“Hey, you’re the one with pre-released merch.”

“They were gifts! It’s not like he’s gonna use a tape dispenser when he’s literally got two of them in his elbows.”

“Gifts plural?” You silently curse Tetsurou’s attention to detail. “He gave you two tape dispensers? You use that much tape?”

“Tetsu, stop being pedantic.”

“I don’t think you’re using that word correctly.” Tetsurou finally stops playing with his makeshift ball, letting it hit his face and fall to the floor as he sits up and leans forward. “And I’m very sure you’re trying to change the topic. Did he give you two tape dispensers?”

“No, he gave me, uh,” you pause and leave your chair to pick up a small microfiber blanket off your bed, “this. Ryu really likes sleeping on it.”

“Looks soft.”

“It is. He gave me a hoodie, too.”

Himari gasps when you say that, bringing her hands to her mouth in excitement as she squeals and causes both you and Tetsurou to wince.

“He’s marking his territory,” she says in a stage whisper, leaning in towards her computer.

You roll your eyes. “From who? I’m stuck inside, Mari. Besides, he’s not an animal.”

“You’re missing a pretty big rebuttal there, though I can’t blame you when you’re all the way in Egypt,” Tetsurou says with a lopsided smirk. “If I didn’t know any better I’d say you like the idea of being his.”

“I don’t wanna be his territory, thank you,” you drawl, then pause, brow crinkling as the sudden nickname sinks in. “Egypt? The hell did that come from?”

“Yeah. Egypt. 8 meters underwater in da Nile,” he replies immediately, raising his hands to shoot finger guns at you.

“You’re a wordplay savant. Truly, I’ve never witnessed such mastery. I tremble before your puns.”

“Okay, jeez, I get it. No need for the snark.”

“He’s just being nice, because he’s a fucking hero and it’s his job to do nice things.”

”I think that’s a bit of a simplification,” Tetsurou laughs. “But you do have a point.”

“Do you like the hoodie?” Himari asks.

You toss your shoulders, successfully resisting the urge to dart your eyes towards where the very thing is hanging off your desk.

“It’s a little big,” you decide on saying. You don’t mention that it’s big because it’s technically his. “Really soft, though. And subtle. I don’t think most people would realize it’s merch.”

“That’s so cool,” Himari sighs. “I wish I had a hunky pro hero roommate to give me branded hoodies.”

“He’s not hunky.” You wrinkle your nose. “Too lanky for that.”

“You don’t think he’s hot?” Tetsurou raises an eyebrow.

You shoot him a look. “I have eyes.”

“Is that supposed to mean ‘he’s objectively the sexiest person alive and that’s why I want to kiss him senseless’ because I think you’re just making excuses.”

“You’re so lucky we’re not speaking in person, Tetsu, because I want to hit you really, really badly right now.”

“I think he is objectively attractive,” Himari pipes up. “But like… in a boy next door kinda way. I like his colleague better, Chargebolt? Kamui Woods too, he’s got that mysterious professional energy that’s really alluring. Ooooo Sero knows Red Riot, doesn’t he? He’s my favorite hero right now. That’s a hunky pro hero. You know he’s over two meters tall?”

“I thought Ground Zero was your favorite hero.” Tetsurou quirks an eyebrow.

“I got tired of him, he’s kind of one-note. Red Riot’s so nice, he rescued a cat the other day.”

“Yeah, that sounds like essential work to me.” You giggle at Tetsurou’s remark, earning a wink from him and a glare from Himari.

“You can tell us all about hunky two-meter-tall Red Riot over the group chat, Mari.” You say, finally. “We should get back to work.”

“He’s over two meters tall!”

“Work!”

The next day, not even an hour after Sero leaves for his patrol, you get a FaceTime call from his contact.

You answer, slightly confused and more than a little worried—he rarely calls you, unless he’s stopping for groceries and needs a list—but it’s not Sero you find on the other side.

It’s a blonde man, around the same age as you, with a black lightning bolt in his hair.

“Whoa!” he exclaims when you answer. “Damnit, you are cute!”

“Huh?”

“Kaminari!” There’s a voice in the background that is unmistakably Sero, faint but clearly annoyed. “Give me back my phone!”

Ah. Kaminari. Chargebolt. You should probably have known that already.

“Aw, c’mon! I just wanted to see your roommate!” Kaminari turns back to the phone, winking at you. “He talks about you so much I wanted to see for myself if he had good taste. And he does. I approve of your canoodling now.”

“Did you just say canoodling?” Sero sounds almost affronted by the term. “Do you hear yourself?”

“Canoodling!” Kaminari repeats, louder and clearly to Sero as he looks somewhere off screen. “Snuggling together on the couch! Falling asleep on each other’s arms! Unfair. Seriously, the universe picks favorites and gives you a cute roommate to-ack!”

You’re not sure what exactly hits Kaminari, but the phone is tumbling out of his hands before he can finish his sentence and subsequently caught by what you assume to be Sero’s tape, because suddenly his face is on the screen.

“I’m so sorry about him, please just ignore this—Denki!”

The blonde is making kissing noises despite no longer being seen, and when Sero shouts his name he shouts, “Wear his hoodie more often! He likes seeing you—“

You see Sero shoot his tape this time, but you don’t see it hit it’s mark. You can hear that it’s covering Kaminari’s mouth, though, because he’s suddenly muffled and struggling.

Sero turns back to the phone, face bright pink and a nervous smile on his face. “Uh. Sorry. Really. I’ll get groceries on my way home.”

And with that, he hangs up, leaving you more than a little bit confused and flustered.

You don’t mention it when he gets home, nor while you two are putting away groceries. Dinner conversation flows without touching on the topic, either. It’s not until you’re halfway through washing dishes that you finally say, “So, canoodling?”

Sero groans, letting his hands fall into the soapy water. “I was hoping you’d forget.”

“Forget? Never. Is Kaminari always like that?”

“Meddlesome and loud?” Sero grumbles. “Yeah. To be fair, I usually join in when he’s doing it to someone else. This is karma, I guess.”

“He said you talk about me a lot,” you point out smugly. “Do you?”

“I guess. I mean, you’re kind of the only exciting thing in my life right now.”

You’re not sure how to feel about that statement. Exciting is good, right? But default isn’t really… ideal. You decide to play it off.

“Damn straight I’m exciting. I’m sure your hero pals loved it when you told them all about my project on mycelium.”

“Shiozaki did like that, actually.” Sero glances over at you. “Don’t sell yourself short, though. Your cat stole my sock the other day.”

“That’s your fault. You should hide them better.”

“He dug it out of my closed sock drawer!”

“You told me you wanted dual custody, but when he steals your sock he’s suddenly my cat?” You scoff, shaking your head. “You’re his father, you should parent, too.”

“Don’t put this on me, you raised him.”

“Oh, so it’s my fault? Don’t let him in your room then, catnapper.”

“I was his father a second ago, suddenly I’m a catnapper? Wow.”

“Yes, you said he was my cat so you’re not his father anymore.” Sero doesn’t respond, and you turn towards him as you put the last dish away. “What, no retaliation?”

He retaliates all right—by dipping his hands in the sink of clean water and flicking droplets on you.

“Wow. Very mature.” You’re smiling as you cup your own hand into the suds and blow a good pile of them towards him.

Sero sputters as they land, batting his hands in front of his face. “Oh, it’s on.”

Your kitchen ends up far messier than when you’d started doing the dishes. Your clothes are soaked—somewhere along the line Sero pulled out the hose faucet and absolutely drenched you. He’s not faring much better, though, because you’d wrestled it out of his grip and given him the same treatment. You’re both grinning like madmen, laughing cheerily despite how wet you are.

You decide to make a last-ditch escape attempt, darting for the kitchen’s entrance around Sero. He catches you, though (it’s almost like he’s a pro hero), wrapping arms around your waist and pulling you back as you let out a shriek that’s full of laughter.

The action makes both of you tumble over. He cushions your fall, making you land right in his lap instead of the hard tile. You’re basically leaning your head in his neck as you laugh so hard tears form in your eyes. He’s laughing, too; his shoulders and torso shaking as he keeps his arms around you and holds you close.

You separate eventually (though, admittedly, far after it would be considered platonic, if such a position could be platonic at all) and go off to get ready for bed. You feel warm and fuzzy as you sleep, though; the conversation with Kaminari not quite forgotten but quelled in some unknown way.

The next day, you talk to your friends about the events, getting vague I-know-something-you-don’t answers from both and a kind of pitying, condescending look that you very much don’t like from Himari.

Still, you apparently don’t ask the right questions (or, admittedly, turn them away from helping you by being stand-offish and changing the topic) because you leave the call feeling more conflicted than you started it.

Thursday goes as normal, until Sero leaves.

You can’t sleep. It’s eleven, then midnight, one, two—three o’clock in the morning and you’re just laying in bed. You hear the door open, hear Sero enter and speak baby-talk to Ryu and then, eventually, you hear the water turn on in the shower.

That’s when you pull on his hoodie (yours, really, but it’s your Sero hoodie) and venture out to stand in the kitchen instead.

Sero finds you there, in front of the sink.

“What are you doing up? It’s late.”

Waiting for him, you realize then. It hits you like a sack of bricks to the head, the fact that you hadn’t been able to sleep because you’d been worried about him, and that you’d left your room so that you’d run into him.

“Can’t sleep,” you settle on telling him.

He stands there for a moment, regarding you, hair still wet from his shower and presumably only just having gotten in pajamas. You’re in your own—you’ve been ready for bed for hours, since just after he’d left for his shift.

“C’mere,” he says finally, reaching forward to take your hand, firm yet gentle. “Let’s watch a movie.”

He leads you to the couch. Your hand tingles where he’s holding it. You pick out an inane documentary, half hoping it’ll bore you to sleep, but you know it doesn’t matter anymore. He’s back, so your insomnia is cured.

You’re not sure how you end up tucked into his shoulder—maybe he’d placed you there at the start, maybe you’d migrated—but your eyelids grow heavy and your breathing begins to steady as a soothing voice drones on about native birds. You find yourself resting your head on Sero’s chest, his arm over your shoulders and hand finding home on your waist as you drift off.

You dream about kissing him.

It’s kind of ridiculous. Stupid, cheesy, exactly the kind of thing he’d do in real life. He doesn’t talk, neither of you say a word, but you’re standing at the entrance to your apartment building and he’s dangling upside down using his quirk. His grinning face is right in front of yours, eyes locked on you.

It feels natural to reach forward and cradle his jaw—as natural as it can feel when the jaw you’re cradling is upside down—and it’s just as natural when you lean in to connect your lips with his. It’s nothing heavy, no tongue or anything, just soft and sweet and reassuring like him. Your other hand comes to his nape, thumb rubbing over the buzzed part of his hair while your four other fingers thread through longer strands. His free hand—the one not attached to the elbow keeping him from falling—comes to the back of your head to hold you closer.

You pull away just as casually as you moved in, like you have all the time in the world and infinite kisses to savor. When you look at his face, his eyes are still closed, and his smile has become close-mouthed. His expression is blissful.

You wake up in your bed.

The sun has risen. Ryu’s sleeping on your bed, curled up pressed into your leg. Your heart is pounding in your chest.

You raise a hand to your lips. It almost feels like you can still taste the dream kiss. You’re still in the hoodie—it’s been weeks, but pulling the hood up to your nose you can still just barely smell him. Wasting no time, you turn to your bedside table and start a call.

Tetsurou answers bleary-eyed, voice hoarse with sleep. “The fuck is this? It’s too early.”

“It’s nine in the morning.”

“Too early,” he repeats, still not quite in frame and holding his phone way too close. “What do you want? I gave you my notes last night, didn’t you get the email?”

“It’s not about school.”

Tetsurou groans out your name. The screen shakes as he presumably sits up in his bed, forcing you to look away to avoid getting motion sick. “Why are you calling me before noon if it’s not a goddamn academic emergency?”

“Tetsu, please, I need advice and Mari’s too much of a romantic to be practical.”

“So you’re calling me?”

“I mean you’re my closest friend alongside her.”

“Fine.” He sighs, finally seeming to get into a good position as his face comes properly into view. “Lay it on me.”

Well, you’d hoped you wouldn’t have to tell him. Saying it aloud is harder than you thought it’d be. That‘s the point of calling Tetsurou, isn’t it? Because he knows already? Hasn’t he been teasing you for weeks? And yet he has yet to pick up on why you’re calling him.

So, you steel yourself, and blurt out the confession in one frantic breath. “I dreamed about kissing Sero and it was really nice and I think you’re right I wanna kiss him for real like a lot please help.”

Clearly he’s not fully awake, because it takes a good few seconds for him to register the words, and you spend them holding your breath waiting for his inevitable wisecrack.

When he finally speaks, though, he’s genuinely serious. “What… help do you want?”

That throws you for a loop. “Huh?”

“I mean, do you want me to help you get over him? Or do you want me to help you make a move?”

You open your mouth to respond, then close it with a clack, cocking your head and glancing away from the phone.

“You don’t know.”

“I guess I need help figuring out how I want help.”

“I mean… okay. Let’s try this. Why do you want to kiss him? What do you like about him? You think he’s hot?”

“I mean, I have eyes so yeah I think he’s hot. He’s easy to talk to, and he has this… contagious laugh and he’s always smiling at me.” You pause, then keep talking, the words coming easily the more you think about it. “He’s really nice, too—I see him trying to help people as much as he can from six feet away whenever he comes home. I like spending time with him, and I think he likes spending time with me, too, but maybe it’s just cause he’s got no other choice. I check his room for Ryu every day even when I know the damn cat’s not there, just so I can talk to him, and I’ve worn his hoodie pretty much constantly since he gave it to me because it smells like him. I’ve fallen asleep on the couch with him like twice now and it’s probably the best I’ve slept in a while. We got into this silly water fight thing while washing dishes two days ago and he grabbed me by the waist and I swear I almost fainted from blushing so hard…”

You stop, realizing you’re rambling, but Tetsurou’s just looking at you with one eyebrow raised.

“Damn. You have it bad.”

You throw your head back against your pillow, staring up at your ceiling feeling very foolish. “Yeah. I do. He’s just so… yanno?”

“Not really, but that doesn’t matter.” Tetsurou pauses, waiting for you to sit back up and look at him. “So. New question. What do you want to do about it?”

“I dunno?”

Your friend rolls his eyes. “Do you want to date him?”

You’re about to repeat yourself, I dunno right on the tip of your tongue, but you sigh instead. Fine. You’ll accept it.

“Yeah. Yeah, I think I do.”

“Okay. Cool. Kiss him.”

“What?” you shriek.

Tetsurou winces, raising a finger to his lips. “Jeez, you’re gonna make my mom come in. You heard me. Kiss him. Just go up to him and lay one right on his lips.”

“Tetsu, I’m not going to—“

“You‘re wearing his branded hoodie,” he interrupted you. “He grabbed your waist while you had a water fight doing the dishes. Yanno what that’s called? Flirting. You do it every time he shows up when I’m on call with you, too. He’s into you. Kiss him. He’ll like it.”

“I don’t know...” You wrinkle your nose.

Tetsurou says your name sternly—it’s uncharacteristically sober, and it kind of freaks you out. “I remember you telling me his friend called you with his phone and teased him about falling asleep with you. What’d he call it? Canoodling? And said Sero wouldn’t shut up about you? He’s annoying his friends talking about you so much—he’s into you. Make a move. That’s not a suggestion, it’s an order.”

“Tetsu, if you’re wrong, it’s gonna make everything awkward. I can’t just walk out there and kiss him.”

“Sure you can! The only reason he hasn’t done it himself is he doesn’t wanna make it awkward, either. I’ve seen the way you interact, okay? It’s borderline painful.”

You should have called Himari. It’d have been easy to write her off as wishful, vicarious thinking. Tetsurou’s never been one to mince words, though. He’s a scientist to the core; one who requires empirical evidence to be convinced of anything. If he’s so certain, the evidence must be overwhelming.

“I’m being serious.” Your attention snaps back to your phone. The look on Tetsurou’s face tells you he knows he’s got you. “Go out there and kiss him. Do it. Now.”

“Fine!” you burst. “Fine, then!”

You don’t even hang up on him, throwing your phone to the side on your bed and leaping to your feet. Ryu makes an annoyed sound, but he stays on as you storm out of your room.

You pass by Sero’s open door, but he’s not in his bedroom. He’s in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a mug in one hand and scrolling through his phone in the other.

Seeing him makes you screech to a halt, metaphorically speaking. He looks up as you come to a stop in front of him, smiling at the sight of you but quirking an eyebrow when you take a step closer.

“Good morning,” he greets. “Sleep well?”

You’re at a loss for words. Tetsu made it sound so easy. Just lay one on him. But here you are, standing in front of Sero, close enough to do it, and his gaze is holding you captive. You can’t move.

Sero opens his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it, rushed and shaky and terrified. “Close your eyes.”

“Huh?”

“Close your eyes,” you repeat, only slightly slower and steadier.

He does it, a faint smile lighting up his face that brings your attention to his mouth. Again, he opens it to say something—probably to ask him what the hell you’re doing—and again you interrupt him before he can speak.

This time, though, it’s by pressing your lips to his.

It’s brief—just a peck, but he doesn’t react immediately, and you’re scared off. Terror strikes your heart as you pull back just as quickly as you closed the gap.

You don’t have time to apologize. He lunges forward, catching you with a hand at the small of your back and pulling you back to him as he kisses you again.

It’s longer this time. He holds you close, his other hand coming to hold you with slender fingers on the base of your neck and palm covering your jaw. Your own hands fly up to his hair, threading through it the way you’ve literally dreamed of as your eyes close and you melt into him.

When you part a second time, it’s not very far, still pressed chest-to-chest. Sero rests his forehead against yours. Your dream didn’t do that blissful look justice—the one he’s giving you now, as he finally opens his eyes, is better than you ever could have imagined.

You try to speak, but he kisses you again, quickly and sweetly and stealing the words you intended to say from your breath. It leaves you bewildered, and he only laughs.

“There. Now we’re even. You didn’t even let me respond the first time.”

Your whole body is buzzing with giddy excitement. You feel like you can’t catch your breath, but in an incredible way that leaves you floating. You’re leaning in before you can stop yourself, pressing a series of fairy-light kisses across the bridge of his nose. By the time he opens his eyes again you’re speaking, still breathless but in a good, happy way this time.

“Date me.”

“That’s pretty bold.”

“Sero,” you whine.

“Okay!” Sero lets out a burst of laughter, bundling you into his arms and swinging the two of you around in a circle. “I will. Of course I will.”

[gii-heylittleangel]

What Bare Eyes Can’t See

Summary: One of the first things Dean learned when he first met Cas was that he couldn’t see all the planes that Cas exists at outside of his vessel, so when they’re on a hunt for a hellhound and Dean looks at Cas with his scorched with holy fire glasses, he can’t believe his own eyes.

Pairing: Dean Winchester&Castiel (Gen)

Word Count: 3543 words

Warnings/Tags: No Warnings; Cas with wings; hunt for hellhound; Dean gets a pretty bad cut; Dean and Cas play Ghost; Dean can see Cas’s wings; and he loves it; Dean touches Cas’s wing; mid-season 8 

Square Filled: Case Fic

A/N: Hey peeps! How are y’all? I’m back with another fic for @spngenrebingo and I’ve been wanting to write something like this for quite a while now. I have a thing for Cas with wings haha. @babybluecas beta’ed this for me because she’s an awesome person.  ❤ I hope y’all like it!

Read it on AO3 or keep reading here!

Sighing for what must be the hundredth time in the course of half an hour, Dean throws his head back and stares at the ceiling, wishing he had the power to make time pass faster. Cas has been happily focused on a random show on the TV for an hour now, legs crossed under him as he rests his back on the headboard.

Dean wishes he could get entertained so easily as Cas does because that way, maybe, time would pass faster, and they would be able to go out and kill the hellhound they're supposed to kill. He starts to tap his fingers on the table and bounce his leg up and down, moving his eyes to stare at the clock on the wall. The seconds hand seems to be making fun of him as he watches it make its way slowly, as if each second took five to get to the next number.

He lets his breath come out through his mouth, putting his arms on top of the table and resting his head on them, turned to the right towards Cas. Dean starts to get lost in thoughts while he stares at Cas, just watching the little humanly things he started to do after spending a few years on Earth.

Dean recognizes some tics that Cas probably got from watching him—like a creep. Cas also has some of Sam’s tics, but not as many as the ones he got from Dean. Cas frowns at the TV a bunch of times as Sam does, especially when something that he doesn’t understand happens; he sometimes talks at the TV as Dean does—especially when Dean's watching horror movies—, though Dean doesn't understand what Cas is saying at the moment.

Cas turns to him after Dean doesn't know how many minutes, tilting his head when he sees Dean staring at him. "Are you okay, Dean?"

Dean blinks a few times, raising his head. "Huh?" He shakes his head, plastering a smile on his face. "Yeah, yeah. I'm bored, that's all. Time ain’t passing fast enough."

Cas chuckles as he turns the TV off, and stands up, walking to Dean. "Do you want to do something to pass the time? I recall that you and Sam often do that when you hunt together."

"That's true. We used to play games sometimes, especially when Sam was younger and that would keep him entertained for hours." Dean shrugs as he straightens his back and stretches it, some bones cracking. He rubs his hand on his face, sighing. "I'm getting too old for this shit. What do you wanna do, Cas?"

Cas shrugs, putting one of his arms on the chair next to Dean. "I'm not familiar with games but we could play one. If you want."

"We could play Ghost."

Cas frowns at him. "Do you really know a game called Ghost?"

Dean smiles. "Yep. It goes like this: I'm gonna say a letter and then you have to say another, then it’s me again and we go until we complete a word. But it needs to be a real word and we can't use two and three-letter words, or it's cheating. If I complete a word, I lose and I get a G. If you complete a word, you lose and get a G. The first person to spell G-H-O-S-T loses the game. What do you think?"

"I like it."

"Alright, then, let's play. And no big, different, intelligent words, alright? That's playing low, especially because you probably know all of them."

Cas chuckles but nods. He sits on the chair in front of Dean, who grabs a sheet of paper and a pen for them. "Do you wanna go first, Cas?"

He nods and squints his eyes as he thinks. "W."

Dean shakes his head in disapproving. "Already with a weird word, huh? Alright.” He bites his lips before answering, “H."

"E."

"E."

"Z."

Dean squints at Cas with an angry expression. "Y."

Cas smiles happily, grabbing the pen. He writes his and Dean's name, putting a 'G' under Dean's name. "This game is fun."

"Just because you're winning. Alright, I'll start now." Dean taps his finger on his lips as he thinks. "G."

"R."

"I."

Cas bites his lower lip before replying, "M."

"A."

"C."

"Damn it, Cas, how are you so good at this game?"

Cas only smiles at him, pen tapping at the paper. "What's your next letter, Dean?"

"E," Dean mutters under his breath, crossing his arms over his chest.

Cas writes an 'H' beside the 'G' under Dean's name. "Did you use to win when you played with Sam?"

"Nah, the kid was too smart, he always used those big words to confuse me, even when he was little. It was annoying, really. That's why I have the rule of no big, weird words."

Cas chuckles, placing the pen on top of the paper. "Do you want to go again?"

Dean steals a glance at the clock on the wall, shrugging when he sees they have time. "Why not? Maybe I can still beat you." Dean waves at him. "It's your turn to start."

Cas nods. "O."

"C."

"C."

Dean smiles triumphantly, eyebrows waggling. "U."

Cas tilts his head. "P."

"A."

"N."

"C."

"Y."

"Ha!" Dean yells happily. "See? Told ya I could beat you." Dean takes the pen to write a 'G' under Cas's name.

Cas rolls his eyes with a smile. "I'm sure you can, Dean."

Dean puts the pen down. "Alright, my turn. D," Dean says the first letter that comes to his mind.

"O."

"M."

Cas bites his nail as he thinks, staring intently at Dean. "I."

"N."

"A."

Dean smiles as he already grabs the pen. "N." 

Cas's shoulders slump slightly. "T."

"Looks like it’s a tie," Dean brags as he puts the 'H' under Cas's name.

Cas rolls his eyes softly, giving Dean a fond smile. "I'm letting you win so you're happy, Dean."

"Yeah, yeah, sure, buddy, whatever you have to say to make yourself feel better." He looks at the clock and then through the window. "I think we can go now. It's about to get dark and I would very much rather see what we're doing as we put our plan into action."

Cas nods as he stands up. "We can play more when we come back."

Dean smiles at him, nudging Cas with his elbow. "You liked it, huh?"

"I just don't like to leave things in a tie, that's all."

"Mhm, right," Dean says as he grabs his jacket and his duffel, walking towards the door. "If we manage to survive the hellhound, we can play when we come back. It'll be cool to brag to Sam about beating an angel of the Lord."

Cas opens the door as he replies, "If you do manage to beat me, Dean. We're tied so far."

"Which means I can still beat you. Just wait and see, Cas."

They walk towards the Impala, Dean putting his duffel on the backseat as he climbs to the driver seat and Cas on the passenger seat. Dean starts the car, driving to the house where all the attacks have happened so far.

The drive is silent, filled mostly with the sounds of the cars passing by them. Dean sees Cas gazes through the window with curiosity in his eyes, making him chuckle lowly. Cas turns to him with his head tilted, but Dean just shakes his head with a smile and returns to watching the road. He feels Cas still staring at him, probably wondering what could've made Dean laugh, but Dean keeps his eyes focused on the road, fighting the smile that keeps coming back to his lips.

It doesn't take long for them to arrive in the woods where all the deaths have happened, the sun starting to set on the horizon, giving the sky a pinkish colour. Cas stares at it while Dean takes his duffel from the car and walks towards him. Dean stops by his side, watching the lower part of the sun start to slowly disappear.

"C'mon, Cas. We should get going if we wanna set everything up before the sun goes down."

Cas nods, eyes lingering on the horizon for five more seconds, before following Dean to the abandoned house on the top of the hill. They try to be as quiet as possible as they set everything up, not wanting to make the hellhound appear while they’re not ready. Dean pours goofer dust and salt around the whole house, just in case they don't manage to kill the hound, so that they’ll have a space to escape to in order not to get themselves killed.

Cas slides his angel blade out from his sleeve—which amazes Dean until this day, doesn't matter how many times he has seen it—as he starts to walk around the perimeter. Dean takes holy oil and a pair of glasses from his duffel, pours some of the oil on the ground and lights it with his lighter. He passes the glasses through the fire a few times as Cas walks closer to him with furrowed brows.

"What are you doing, Dean?"

Dean raises his eyes to him. "We learned a new trick that lets us see the hounds, which makes it a hell of a lot easier to hunt them."

"It's a nice strategy. Where did you learn it?"

"Kevin read it on the angel tablet."

Cas nods before turning to the woods on the right side of the house, eyes squinted as he turns his head slightly to the side. "I think I hear something from there."

Dean stands up, putting the fire out with his foot. "Alright, you go there, I'm gonna go take a walk around, maybe I'll find something."

Cas nods again and walks away as Dean takes his angel blade from the duffel and rolls it around in his hand to get a better grip. He puts the glasses on, blinking a few times as his eyes adjust to his new view of things—everything seems bluer than usual but everything has more details than without the glasses. He looks at the angel blade on his hand, eyes widening when he sees it glowing with a blue, ethereal light.

He shakes his head, taking his eyes from the blade and looking around him. He walks slowly around the house, keeping himself behind the goofer dust and salt line, trying to see or hear anything that could let him know that the hound is there. He can’t make out anything in the forest, not even the glasses help him see anything in the dark, and he also doesn’t hear anything, so he turns to his right to look at Cas and ask if he saw something.

He stops dead on his tracks when he sees them—two gigantic things right at Cas's back. 

"Cas! Behind you!" Dean screams before he can make his legs work. He forces his mind out of its stupor, pushing his legs to start working so he can run to Cas.

Cas turns to him with a stance to fight, eyes darting around him to see what Dean’s talking about and Dean's eyes widen when he sees the things turn with him. He almost trips, stopping a few feet from Cas, mouth hanging open as his mind starts to comprehend what he’s looking at.

Not seeing anything, Cas looks at Dean with a confused expression. "What is it, Dean?"

"Th—, behi—" Dean stutters, not quite knowing what he wants to say. He stares amazed as the things tense the same way Cas's shoulders do, and Dean finally realizes what they are—they're Cas's wings.

They extend large around Cas, probably fifteen or more feet to each side and six or seven feet up and down. They look nearly tangible, but still transparent enough to let Dean to see through them, as if they're trapped between two different planes. They are dark blue with a few black spots. The same ethereal light comes from them, giving it a clearer outline as Dean stares in wonder. They seem to express Cas's emotions, changing along with his expression—tensed when Cas looks afraid or worried, anxious while he stares at Dean, waiting for him to say something.

"Your... Your wings," Dean says in a low voice as he moves his gaze to Cas's face, eyes widening even more as he sees Cas's entire body covered on the ethereal light.

Cas frowns. "What about my wings, Dean?" He takes a few steps towards Dean. "Are you okay?"

Dean points to Cas's wings inertly. "I—I can see your wings."

"That's, that's not possible, Dean." Cas squints at Dean. Understanding takes the place of confusion. "The glasses. You put the glasses on holy fire to be able to see the hound, so they probably let you see anything that human eyes can’t."

Dean only nods amazed, too caught up on watching Cas's wings stretch out as Cas walks closer to him. Dean raises one hand, moving it closer to the wings. He looks into Cas's eyes in search of permission. Cas tips his head in agreement, his right wing moving closer to Dean's hand.

The wing gives a tickling sensation and radiates heat that warms Dean's hand almost instantly. Dean runs his fingers through the feathers, speechless when they feel so soft under them as if they are bird feathers, feeling almost like fur. He moves his hand up and down the wing until he sees Cas shiver and close his eyes.

Dean retreats his hand instantly. "Does it hurt?"

Cas shakes his head softly, giving Dean a smile as he opens his eyes. "No, it feels good. I just, no one has ever touched them. It's different."

"They're beautiful, Cas. Almost like the colour of your eyes, just a little darker."

"They actually have more colours than just blue, but you probably relate blue to me, that's why you see them like that."

Dean frowns. "So each person would see them in a different colour?"

"Each person would see what they think relates to me, so they would see part of my wings. Can you see them fully or do they seem a little transparent?"

"They do, which is weird. Like I see them and don’t see them at the same time."

Cas smiles. "Because they're not actually on this plane and you can't quite see all of the planes they are on."

Dean opens his mouth to speak, but closes it as soon as he hears a growl. Cas also hears it, turning to the source of the sound, angel blade in position to attack. Dean positions himself by his side, trying not to stare at Cas's wings, instead, keeping his focus on the woods, narrowing his eyes to make the hound's outline on the low light.

He sees one come from between the woods, a messy form and its red eyes glowing in the dark. He opens his mouth to tell Cas but stops when he sees where Cas is looking. There's another hound a few feet away, larger than the first one. 

“Damn, I thought we had only one hound to deal with. How do those demons not realize they lost track of two hellhounds?”

Cas shakes his head softly, his wings tensing around him. “We’ll have to each deal with one, Dean.”

“Alright, I’ll get ugly number one,” he points at the first hound, “and you deal with ugly number two.”

Cas nods once more and moves towards the hound. Dean adjusts his grip on the angel blade and steps out of the line of goofer dust and salt. The hound snarls at him and Dean can almost see its big, pointy teeth. Memories from another hellhound, from years ago, start to come up to his mind, and Dean shakes his head to get rid of the mental image. The last thing he needs right now is getting too caught up on that memory and get killed by a hound again. 

He comes closer, only close enough for it to try and attack him, but giving Dean enough time to turn and run if he needs to. He smirks at it. “Damn, aren’t you an ugly-looking sonuvabitch, huh? C’mon, come get a piece of me.”

Slowly stepping backwards, he tries to lure it out from the woods. He definitely doesn’t want to start a fight with it among the trees, where it’ll be harder for him to escape. The hound growls and starts to run towards him, paws stomping the ground under it, the sound almost too loud for Dean to bear. He turns and starts to run closer to the house.

It’s not long before his calves start burning from the running and he’s close to the line around the house. He sees Cas fighting against the other hound, wings moving him around so swiftly that makes Dean wonder if Cas isn’t actually flying around. He shakes his head, tearing his gaze from the angel. He needs to keep his focus. 

He turns his head slightly to look at the hound, noticing he’s starting to lose his advantage, so he makes a decision. He throws himself on the ground, body slightly turned so he’ll fall on his back, but the hound gets to him faster than he predicted. It scratches Dean’s calve, making him scream and lose any control over his fall.

Pain explodes on his leg. He hits the ground, his back hurting with the impact. The hound throws itself on top of him, claws piercing through his chest. Dean screams again and uses the last of his strength to raise his hand and stab the hound right on its neck. Black blood pours down on him, the hound mewls as it drops heavy on Dean’s chest. Dean loses his breath under the weight, hand falling limply on his side. 

He turns his head slightly to see Cas kill the other hound with a finesse Dean could never master. He tries to speak, Cas’s name coming out as a whimper for the lack of air in his lungs, leaving Dean to gasp for breath.

But it’s enough to make Cas turn to him, eyes widening and wings stretching by his sides when he sees Dean. Oddly enough, what goes through Dean’s mind is that he’ll at least be able to die with such a beautiful view in his eyes.

His eyes start to fall close just as Cas runs towards him—and from how Cas’s wings are moving, Dean assumes he must be flying. Dean hears the thud on his right side when Cas falls to his knees, and the weight on top of im disappears. He takes in a deep breath, mind clearing slightly as the oxygen starts to flow through his veins again, but it hurts to breath. A soft hand touches his neck, making him raise his head.

“Dean, can you hear me?” Cas gives a few pats on Dean’s cheek, urging him to react.

Dean groans slightly, eyes opening just enough for him to see Cas’s worried expression above him. Cas lets out a relieved sigh, shoulders relaxing. He places Dean’s head on his lap and puts a hand on Dean’s chest. The feeling of Cas’s grace inside his body relaxes and warms Dean up, his chest stoping to hurt as Cas heals it, allowing Dean to breath freely.

Cas takes his hand from Dean’s chest and places it on his thigh. Cas heals the cuts that the hound made on Dean’s calve, and takes his hand to put it on Dean’s cheek. The feeling of Cas’s grace stays with him as Dean opens his eyes to stare at the angel.

“Y’know, people normally buy me at least a drink before moving to touching, Cas.”

Cas chuckles as he shakes his head slowly. “Well, I saved your life so I guess that makes us way past the ‘buying a drink’ point, doesn’t it?”

Dean smiles fondly at him. “You make some good points. Alright, let me up.”

Cas helps Dean stand up. Dean wobbles slightly but catches his balance in seconds. Cas bents down to grab the glasses that fell off from Dean’s face, and hands them to Dean.

“You look good in glasses, Dean.” 

Dean can feel the heat coming up his neck and to his cheeks, so he takes the glasses from Cas’s hands, keeping his gaze down to hide his blush. “Yeah, yeah. We should go.”

He starts walking to where he left his duffel, but he can still feel Cas’s gaze on his back. He doesn’t give it too much attention, kneeling down to put the glasses and the holy oil back in the bag. He stands up and makes his way to where they parked the car. He doesn’t hear Cas’s footsteps following and he’s almost turning to hurry Cas up, but the angel shows up suddenly by his side, making Dean jump.

“Dude, you can’t just magically appear out of nowhere. Wanna give me a heart attack?”

“My apologies, Dean,” he doesn’t even have to turn to know that Cas has a smile on his lips.

Dean suppresses a smile of his own, bumping his shoulder with Cas’s. “Jackass.”

[amoristt]

Not My Boyfriend | Nathan x Reader

disclaimer: i know nathan is not a good person. i am not putting a blanket over his actions in this fic. i, the writer, understand he’s not an innocent character and has made many terrible choices. im just answering people’s requests, please dont put me under the fire for it.

thank you.

Anonymous asked:  CAN YOU DO NATHAN X READER (FLUFF 15) PLEASE! ;U; AND MAYBE A FLUFFY KISS TOO!

sure thing! this was a lot of fun to write :3 hope you guys like it! the prompt is, “He’s not my boyfriend!”

reblogs + tags and replies will make my entire day as i put a lot of effort into this :)!

story continues beneath the read more. let me know if you can’t access it!

Not My Boyfriend

A bird landing inches away from you was a softly lived moment. Fingers that were previously punching numbers into a calculator froze. You barely moved to look up from your homework, all those menacing papers sprawled haphazardly over the wooden picnic table, as to not scare it. It was small, barely larger than the palm of your hand. It’s eyes were beady and unexpecting, it’s wings tucked safely against its fat little body. It hopped from one spot to another, occasionally leaning forward to tilt it’s little head at your calculous. If not for the lack of color in it’s eyes you’d have thought it was confused by your scribbled text.

“Me too,” You breathed, and just that little sound scared it away. You watched it go all the way until it disappeared behind a hefty building, red with bricks and green with vines creeping up the edges. A disinterested sigh passed your lips, your mind bored and exhausted from grinding it’s gears all day. It was noon and you were halfway done with your work, but there was still a small pile of papers that demanded your attention. Even the sight of them made your headache worsen, the pulsing racing in between your temples.

Spring break had come to a sorrowful end. Goodbye sleeping in, goodbye staying out late, and hello school life once again. The eraser of your pencil tapped against your lips idly, fingers itching to do anything than continue writing. You missed summer vacation so much it felt like it was a dull ache in the pit of your chest.

Surviving winter was hard for a summer lover like you, and you spent most of your christmas and winter breaks holed up in your dorm once you came back from visiting family. You weren’t alone there of course, either with your few select friends or your boyfriend, but you’d rather have died than went outside in the snow and freezing cold.

You smiled at the memory, though. You hated winter but staying inside wasn’t bad. Watching movies wrapped in blankets, the taste of hot cocoa on your tongue, the feeling of an arm slung over your shoulder. Half of the time you were never even focused on the movie playing, too caught up in the lips pressed against your own, the hand tugging through your hair, the taste of him.

Nathan Prescott.

Kissing Nathan outside of a party was like spotting the wildest rose, beautiful but distant. Never outside the walls of your dorm did he trace the shape of your jaw, kiss at your collar bones, or let his palms glide down the valley of your back. With soft background noise and a blanket he let himself feel you wherever he pleased, and you welcomed it. He himself wasn’t too much of a fan of the feeling, sometimes recoiling when you touched at him, but he couldn’t get enough of the feeling of your skin. Even subconsciously his hands would drift as close at they could, briskly grazing you.

Outside, however, was another story. In solitude he was never the iron-clad, hard headed asshole his reputation so easily displayed him out to be. He was sarcastic, sharp, and he was far from sickly sweet, but he wasn’t Arcadia Bays’ infamous Nathan Prescott. He was your Nathan. He was your Nathan that kissed you on your shoulders but also laughed when you fell off the bed. He was your Nathan that took photos of you, made you look like an angel, but he also was your Nathan that would sometimes draw devil horns on them.

In the winter he was your Nathan that snuck into your room and brought you cocoa, and in the summer he would ‘accidentally’ lose the key he stole from you in order to lock you outside for the day.

He had many sides to him, sides that no one would get to know, but he wasn’t evil. Devious, almost annoyingly so at times, but never… Malicious. Of course he could be, and you knew that. He could be the most volatile person to walk the halls of Blackwell should he want to, but when it came to you he would sneak along the hallways, slip into your room quiet as a mouse uninvited just because he ‘felt like it’. Truth be told, he missed you.

In your back pocket your phone vibrated, making you realize you’d drifted deeper into thought than you had intended. Without even looking at the notification you were already smiling- you knew who it was. Sure enough when you retrieved the device his name lit up clear as day, ‘yorkie’. It was a teasing remark you’d called him once while comparing him to dogs, and you settled on yorkie because they’re small but act like demons. He wasn’t too thrilled over the choice but you thought it was funniest shit, so you ran with it. 

When you learned your relationship with Nathan would have to be hidden from the school, you chose the first nickname that came into your head for his contact.

‘where r u?’

Before typing out your reply you gave a quick look-see around, making sure it was just you at the lonesome, miniature park. When it was first built it was overflowing with kids, but soon parents learned that 2 swings, a merry go round, and a few picnic tables wouldn’t suffice for entertainment. Without the shrill cries of toddlers and kids, you’d found it made an excellent study spot.

‘park. catching up on some hw rn.’ You leaned forward, elbows resting on the scratchy wooden surface. ‘why :0? anything up?

He replied almost instantly, a simple ‘nah. dont go anywhere, im gunna b there soon.’

‘wouldnt dream of it. see u soon’

You set the phone to the side and sighed, looking down at both your finished and unfinished work. It taunted you, and you swore it sounded like they were laughing when a warm breeze sent a few pieces fluttering. Drained, you started to gather all of the worksheets up, stacking them atop each other and then scooting them down the table. It almost physically hurt when you grabbed an unfinished sheet, the words ‘chemistry’ causing you to inwardly groan in defeat. With all this work you cursed your past self for not doing it bit by bit over break in order to avoid a situation like this.

By the time Nathan arrived, hands shoved in his pockets and his head ducked down like a stalking cat, you had gone through 2 more sheets and your headache had doubled. You waved a worn-out hello when he came into your view, and he took a look at your current state of being and shook his head.

“Seriously?” He scoffed, hopping onto the seat beside you. “You’re actually doing this all?”

“Course I am,” You added one more sheet to the finished pile. “I do want to get good grades, you know.”

Nathan leaned on one arm, his angular chin propped by an even more angular hand. “Just cheat like everyone else.”

“The last time you suggest that I failed entirely.” Although you tried to sound scolding, all that came out was an airy chuckle.  He rolled his eyes and his hand fell, his other coming up to join beside it. You grinned at him. “Is this too boring for you or something?”

“Actually?” he jumped up and sat on top of the picnic table rather than on the seat. With a look of almost disgust he read over the last sheet you’d finished. “Yeah, this is boring as fuck. What’s with the stack?”

A moan of anguish found it’s way out. “I was stupid and decided to procrastinate until last minute.”

“Why ever would you do that?” Nathan hummed, not looking up from your worksheet even when a knowing, sly grin took over his lips. You fought the urge to smack his knee.

“Not funny,” your pencil drew light circles at the corner of your paper. “This is seriously stressing me out.”

“So take a break then,” Nathan hopped down beside you again, his nimble fingers snatching the pencil right from your fingers. You wanted to argue, reach out and grab it, but you lacked the energy and motivation. Bad move, you learned, because the minute he stole your pencil he started writing crude phrases on the wood.

As he wrote you laughed, clicking your tongue and shaking your head. “You know kids see this shit, right?”

“Yeah, so?” He draw two circles beside each other and you rolled your eyes before he finished the piece. “Not like they know what it means anyways.”

“Yes but the parents do.”

“Oh no,” He leaned back again to admire his ugly work. “I’m so scared of little Tommy and his deadbeat, soccer mom.”

“Give me that back.” You swiped your pencil back now that he was finished, but the thought of returning to your work was a heavy one. Once again you cursed at your past self for thinking this would somehow all work out in the end. In the corner of your eyes you saw Nathan start to fidget with something he pulled from his pocket, and at that point you were desperate for something to gain your attention. “What’s that?”

He looked up at you briefly before turning back down to his item, then he set it out in front of him. It was a small camera it seemed, and cheaper than the rest of his devices, and it looked to be an instant camera along with that.

“I thought you were more into computer developed shots?”

Nathan used his sleeve to wipe at the camera's lens, then he shrugged. “I am, and believe me I wouldn’t be using his hipster piece of shit if I didn’t have to.”

Leaning forward you watched him toy around with the buttons. “So what’s it for then?”

“Photos, duh.” You shoved playfully at his shoulder and he smirked teasingly. “It’s something about the lighting I guess. Got a tip from a friend that instant cameras take the best candid shots.”

“Better candids, huh?” Slowly you reached out and grabbed at the camera, and Nathan surprisingly let you. Probably because he had little regard for the items’ safety- he could just get a new one. “I think I’ll be the judge of that.” In an instant you’d reached the camera out, facing it towards you and Nathan, and he rolled his eyes but slung his arm around you none the less. However, unfortunately, he put up his middle finger as well.

Still, you took the shot, and for a moment a light blinded you. Then the picture developed and slid out from the bottom, your fingers reaching out to snatch the pic and then shake it quickly. It was warm like freshly printed paper, and if not for the fact that Nathan’s middle finger was up it would have been a pretty light hearted and sweet image, something you’d hang up in your room.

“Don’t show that to anyone,” Nathan said, and it was disheartening to know why. He tried to sound teasing, the words playing a jesting ‘i look bad there’, but it was deeper.

Your relationship was a secret to the outside community, a spectacle only you and him could observe. Sometimes it was okay, as it made you feel special. Only you knew the things you and him did behind closed doors, only you knew the feeling of the pads of his fingers trailing over your goosebump riddled skin. Only you knew the softness of his lips, the sharp angles of his jaw, and how dewy-eyed he got when you woke up beside each other. Other times a shallow and cold feeling tugged at your chest. Albeit never questioning why he chose to keep everyone in the dark, you knew he had his reasons and you weren’t going to pressure him on them. But… You still wondered. A million ideas would race through your head at night. Why, why why. However your qualms were quick to be distinguished when he’d show up at your dorm and find his way under your blankets, his body lean but radiating like a furnace.

The picture was still warm against your fingertips, and you smiled down at it. “Why not?” You playfully whined, both seriously and teasingly. “You look so cute here.”

Nathan rolled his eyes and tried to grab at the picture but you were too quick, leaning away from him and taking the photo of out his reach. He tried again, this time leaning over you in the process, but you got up and rose your eyebrows.

“Don’t make me chase you,” He narrowed his eyes, but they were anything but angry. He was enjoying himself. “We both know how that always ends up.” Waving the photo tauntingly in the air, he started to get up from his seat. The moment his feet touched ground you jumped, running left then right while knowing he was hot on your trail.

It was always so jarring how much faster he was than you. In seconds he was grasping at your shoulders, fingers catching the fabric, and you were turned to face him. Thanks to your speed you almost fell backwards but you caught his shoulders, managing to regain your footing. He was grabbing at the image and you kept it held close, a laugh rising at the feeling of his fingers poking at your skin. His footing faltered and you took it as a moment to make your gleeful escape, but he caught your wrist and stopped you from going too far. Although fast, he lacked endurance, and he was out of breath as he  wrapped his arms around your waist to stop you from going anywhere. You swatted at his chest and squirmed, but found yourself trapped.

“Photo, now.” He demanded with a grin in knowing he had you caught.

You opened your mouth to tell him never, but another voice halted you.

“What’s all this?”

In that moment both yours and Nathan’s blood ran cold. He was so quick to let you go, the force making you stumble before you stilled and stared at the two figures approaching with wide, fearful eyes. Nathan seemed more irritated than afraid like you, and his hands balled into fists. God damn it, his eyes said, and you felt your stomach drop at the thought of him being upset over the fact that he’d been caught messing around with you.

Two teens, Blackwell students by the looks of their jackets, were close now. Your stomach churned when you recognized the speakers short brown hair, his red jacket that mimicked Nathan’s. Logan Robertson. Beside him you recognized Zachary, a slightly nicer but still equally malicious football player.

You and Nathan traded looks in knowing full well where this was going.

“You and ___?” Logan started in a taunting tone. “Never thought you for the type to go for the underdogs.”

Zachary leaned his head back to laugh before he spoke up too. “Gotta say it’s smart, Nate. The nobodies are so easy to pick up.”

The words hurt but you didn’t dare argue back. Your relationship was a secret, and it would be the end of the world if those two morons found out about it. With sand in your throat you swallowed down your pride, remembering the fact that yours and Nathan’s relationship was at stakes. He meant too much for you to lose just because two dickheads wanted to cause drama.

“That’s not-- We aren’t-” You stumbled over your words as you frantically tried to find out a way to explain what they had seen. Carefully you hid the photo behind your back. “We were just-”

Logan snickered. “We were- We were just- we- we- we- Spit it out, sister!”

“Studying!” Your tongue felt heavy. Nathan rose a brow and you squeezed your eyes shut at the vague and thin lie.

Zachary crossed his arms, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes. “Bullshit. We all know Nathan Prescott doesn’t study.”

“Yes the fuck I do!” He chided, seeming personally offended by the jocks statement. “I study all the damn time, which is what you two lemmings should be doing too.”

“Since when do you care about class? You hardly even bother to show up half the time.” Logan said, and you swallowed thickly at the scene starting to play out in front of you. Logan’s eyes found you and he scoffed. “Don’t tell me ___’s the type of person to force her boyfriend into being good.”

Heat rose to your cheeks. They knew. They knew, they knew, they knew, and yours and Nathan’s relationship was as good as over. Your chest felt like it was concaving and you acted out as quickly as your racing brain could allow you too.

“He’s not my boyfriend!” You blurted. It was loud and forced, but it left all three of them stunned for a moment.

Among of all them, Nathan seemed the most taken aback.

You didn’t stay long enough for them to poke more at your words, pivoting off your heel and barreling straight for your papers. From the wind a few had blown from your pile and you carelessly grabbed at them, shoving and crumpling them into your bag. Nathan was saying something from where he stood but you weren't listening, already slinging your bag over your shoulder and taking your leave.

Suddenly the photo you still held in your hand felt like it weighed a ton.

It was a few hours until you managed the courage to text him again.

Though now riddled with a bad memory you were right back at the park, this time without the anchor of your school bag or the headache from equations. No, all you had with you was your phone, your wallet, and that damn photo. You’d forgotten that on the way home you shoved it into your pocket and upon returning to the park to relax, it crossed your mind again. Although planning to spend some time alone, the sight of you and him happy together made you do something you’d been thinking about for months.

Step one of your emotionally drenched plan was to invite him to the park, and it was an invite he took without argument. Something felt off in his text, it felt… careful, like he knew exactly what was coming. A storm brewed in your gut.

The wait for him to show up was a relentless one, and the whole time you considered the idea of backing out, but it seemed fate would have it otherwise because when you picked your phone up to text him ‘nevermind’ you saw the photo again. It sat on your lap like a brand, and you set your phone back down beside you and groaned. This could be the end or a very fruitful beginning.

Step two was put into motion when he arrived, spotting you on the merry go round where he took a seat beside you. He was smooth in his motions, much more thoughtful than he was earlier. The way he glanced side to side before approaching you did not go unnoticed.

With the hours that passed the sun fell, and now that it was early in the evening everything was saturated in a brilliant gold thanks to the setting sun. If not for the ton of bricks that rolled around in your stomach you would have appreciated the scenery a bit more, but the nausea welling in your throat couldn’t be overridden by pretty clouds or the golden hour.

“What’s up?” He asked, breaking the silence you formed unawarely. He was anxious with his words, like he was expecting some life changing news on your behalf.

You shrugged casually despite the raging fire in your head. The last thing you wanted to do was rile him up. “I just,” The sand formed in your throat again and you almost gagged on it. “Wanted to talk about something.”

“Earlier?”

Lips pressed into a tight line, you nodded glumly. He made a noise of distress and leaned back, his gaze unset and unfocused.

“Look, they’re assholes, but I don’t think they’re gonna go telling everyone shit about me and you.”

“That’s not it,” You shook your head and pressed your hand against your throbbing temple. “The thing is, I don’t care if people know.”

“You seem pretty fucked up about it, though.”

“That’s because I know you wanted to keep it some big secret.”

Nathan took note of your words, eyeing you with knit brows. “I don’t want us to be some ‘big secret’, that’s just kind of how it has to go.”

“Why?” Your hands fell against your lap and you frowned up at him, but he wasn’t looking. “Why do we have to keep everything to ourselves?”

“Why does it matter so much?” He finally looked down at you, his expression tight, his jaw leveled. “What we’re doing is working out just fucking fine, isn’t it?”

You sighed. “Yeah, yeah it’s working.”

“Then what's the big issue?”

“It just-” you ran a hand through your hair roughly, trying to find the right words. “I don’t see why we can’t tell anyone! I mean yeah it’s fine, we’re working, but just- tell me why it’s so important that no one knows.”

“Because you'd fucking hate it if everyone knew!” His voice held so many emotions, but the two most prominent was the obvious anger and the less obvious worry. “Believe me, ___ if people found out you were involved with me you’d run for the fucking hills.”

You blinked at him, lips parted. “Why would I leave you?”

“Are you serious?” He looked down at his lap. “God, you’d get attacked. Maybe not physically but fuck, you’d get ripped into. Do you want to end up like me?”

Your gaze lowered to your legs, the photograph on your lap. “You seem to handle it just fine.”

“If you call drinking and starting fights ‘just fine’ then hell yeah I’m doing great.” He picked at his pants absently. “Never better.”

“Nathan,” You looked up at him. “I don’t care what people say about me. The years almost over, highschool drama is highschool drama. It doesn’t matter in the real world.”

Nathan groaned, rubbing his cheeks with his hands in stress. “It goes way further than that.”

“So what then?” That heat rose to your cheeks but it wasn’t accompanied by the fluttering of your heart. No, it was anger, a sinking and hot stone that ground against your bones. “We just date in the shadows where everythings nice and fucking cozy?”

“What’s wrong with that!”

“Everything!” Now it was your turn to rub at your face, irritated and huffy. “I don’t want to have to constantly feel like I’m being watched when I’m with you! I don’t want to have to worry about seen all the time, and I sure as hell don’t want to keep feeling like you’re ashamed to be with me!” You were talking so quickly, so fervently, you forgot to think before you spoke. You blurted out a thought that had eating away at you, and he gaped at you for it.

“You think I’m ashamed of you?” He asked, voice low and hissing. “That’s what you think this is about?”

You swallowed thickly and tried to eat the lump forming in your throat. “Sometimes.”

Nathan’s features softened, and he leaned back to look up at the sky. “___, that’s not… Shit, that’s not what this is about.” He sighed. “I just don’t want you to get all hurt because some hipster bitch won’t leave you alone. The thought of you going off and leaving me because of drama sucks.”

“I wouldn’t leave you over that.” You croaked. “I wouldn’t.”

“It’s easy to say that now.” He said, mostly to himself, but you responded anyways.

“I wouldn’t leave you over pointless shit, Nathan.” Using your sleeves you wiped roughly at your eyes. “I just want to- I just wanna be able to do shit with you outside my room is all.”

“What can we do outside your room that we can’t inside?”

You shrugged. “It’s different outside.” Through the ever growing blurriness of your vision, you looked up at him.

Nathan’s eyes seemed farther away, facing into the trees that surrounded the dingy little park. His silence was deafening and fear crept under your skin, made your face heat up in anxiety. You felt like you’d screwed up pretty badly, like you’d ruined something. The lack of an answer, even if it was just an irritated sigh, made you antsy. When your lips parted to speak up he beat you to it.

“If you can handle it,” He started, closing his eyes, giving in. “Then sure, whatever.”

You blinked at him slowly, processing. The thought of being open with him made your chest feel like it was filled with cotton. “Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously. If you really don’t care then…” His eyes opened, and they were almost golden with the setting sun's reflection. “Then I don’t either.”

A smarter part of you knew that you shouldn’t be as starstruck as you were. Being with Nathan had a price, and it was a damaging one. It was easy to claim that you didn’t mind some harassment here and there since you were alone, safe with him, but what would happen when you were alone? You weren’t the strongest, you weren’t the fastest. You didn’t want to use Nathan’s name as a shield, either. If some asshole decided to make your day hell then you were stuck.

But, a dumber, romantic part of you, didn’t care. So much of you wanted to touch him, fingers longing to lock and intertwine with his own. Nathan was bony and uncomfortable yet your heart stuttered at hugging him, leaning against him, lying beside him. He was so closed off and guarded that when he finally did open up bits of himself you greedily couldn’t get enough.

“Good,” you breathed. Words tumbled against the tip of your tongue but they couldn’t take shape, your lips moving to try and force another sentence out. That same dry and full feeling returned and it was a miracle you could even speak at all when you asked, “Can I kiss you?”

Nathan was caught off guard. You could see it in his eyes, the way they zeroed in on you before shifting back to nothing in particular. Beneath you the merrygoround creaked as it barely moved. When he looked at you, uncertain, you swallowed thickly and readied yourself to apologize. However, you didn’t need to. He nodded once and ducked beneath the railing, and you met him halfway with your heart thudding in your chest.

It was a quick kiss, chaste and rather plain, but it was more than enough. He molded against you perfectly in those few seconds, his eyes closed and shoulders relaxed. Before it ended your fingers twitched to reach out and grab some part of him, hold him close, but he broke away before you managed to. Albeit having kissed before, this one felt different. You and Nathan had been lip locked for hours on end it seemed sometimes, wrapped around one another to the point where you had no idea where you started and he ended. However this wasn’t like those times. This kiss was shy and sensitive, and when you finally opened your eyes he wasn’t looking at you anymore.

“How was that?” He asked suddenly, his sentence rushed and wavery. You smiled and reached out to gently take the fabric of his jacket in your hand.

“Again.”

Once more Nathan looked down at you but his previous expression was gone, his qualms away with it. Oddly affectionate, warm even, a sight that you’d come to know but didn’t get to see quite often. He ducked under the bar again and just like before you met him halfway, your lips meeting more intense than they had before. This kiss you recognized. It was the type of kiss you felt when he was in a calmer state of mind, usually met when he’d just woken up from a long nap, or when he decided to get loving during a night in your dorm.

It was tender, and softer than anything you’d even known. He didn’t pull away moments later this time- if anything he deepened the kiss with a tilt of his head in the process. You fisted his jacket and tried to scoot closer to him, but found you were separated from the railing placed in between your bodies.

When you and him broke apart the last thing on your mind was the fact that you were still out in the open, able to be seen by whomever happened to be around. Instead you were focused on the light dusting of pink on his cheeks, and the way that his eyes darted from your own to something else in timidity. You realized that as much as this was new to you, it was even more new to him. He’d probably never had a public relationship before, not one that worked out anyways.

You grinned, a giggling laugh slipping past your lips. He scoffed at your bubbliness and rolled his eyes, shifting back onto his side of the railing and shaking his head. Still you saw beyond the action, taking mental note of the way his lips seemed to make an effort as to not curl up into a smile.  

Shards of the sun leaked through the trees, now fat with leaves as they should be, and they painted the side of his face. The merry go round creaked again as it slowly spun, your shoes lightly digging into the wood chips on the ground. Nathans hand rested close to your own, and it felt like he was wordlessly inviting you. Tentatively, as if reaching out to pet an animal, you brushed your fingers along his scarred knuckles and felt them twitch. He didn’t move his hand away like he used to when you’d accidentally brush yours against his own. Those moments stung, and now this would be the bandage.

The ride stopped drifting in circles, you watched the treelines beside Nathan, and you held his hand.

[phandomsecretvalentines]

Tell Me Everything Will Be Alright

This is my fic (and my first phanfic wow) for the 2018 Phandom Secret Valentines, and my valentine is @citrouillephan!

I hope you enjoy!   -from your valentine, @realityfallsapart

tags: fluff, angst, 2009 AU

words: 4.7k

Summary: Dan Howell tends to get lost in his head and his thoughts have a habit of ruling him even when he doesn’t want them to. When he and his best friend finally have a chance at meeting, Dan starts to wonder if he is actually good enough for the amazing human being that is Phil Lester.

(ao3 link)

(Thank you so much to @moonbeamphan for reading this over and helping me! This wouldn’t be as good without you!)

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

Dan typed his answer and sent it by hitting enter before leaning back in his chair and letting out a shaky breath that seemed to rattle his insides. His laptop chirped quietly, announcing that Phil had replied to him. He couldn’t bring himself to look at it right away. Finally, after a few moments, he flicked his eyes down to the white screen of the computer in his lap where Phil’s most recent message seemed to glare up at him.

  Phil :) (9:47 PM)

i know!

i can’t believe it either!

For a few moment, Dan could do nothing but stare at the screen; at the black words disrupting the artificial white light. It was the only thing that gave Dan any sort of illumination in his room; everything else was dark. He bit his lip and thought about the possible pros and cons of shutting his laptop and burying his head under his duvet to pretend that everything was fine because it was. It’s all fine.

Dan shook his head and reached his hands down to the keyboard. He wouldn't—couldn’t—do that to Phil. Phil deserved so much better than that. His numb fingers typed out a small sentence, only realizing that it had several typos until after he had sent it. He mentally kicked himself for it.

  Dan ^-^ (9:51 PM)

Me niether! it seems like thsi would n e v e r happen!

**neither, this

Jeez i can spell

Phil :) (9:51 PM)

idk dan are you sure you can def spell? those seem like some pretty beginner mistakes…

  Dan knew Phil was kidding. He knew that it was just Phil playing around with Dan like they normally did. Like they had been doing for months at this point. But in Dan’s heightened state of anxiety and stress, he couldn’t help but berate himself further. God, Phil must think of him as a kid now, he can’t even spell right!

Dan crashed back into his mattress, groaning and squeezing his eyes shut.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid….” he muttered, hitting his forehead with his hand with every word.

Looking back on this moment, Dan would laugh and realize how utterly idiotic his anger with himself was coming from, but right now, in bed with the lights off and by himself, he couldn’t help but magnify the issue. He had been anxious and stressed without a pause this entire week.

He looked up at his ceiling, sighing in growing frustration towards himself, but it wasn’t just because of his inability to catch his typos. In fact, it had nothing to do with them. The typos had just tipped him right over the edge and all of his insecurities crashed over him like waves, his head nearly going under the tide.

To say he wasn’t good enough was an understatement. To say that Phil deserved a much better best friend than Dan was even more of one. Phil was older, more experienced, more mature, funny, smart, kind, and extremely compassionate. He had a great time making pretty successful and entertaining videos (at least in Dan’s opinion, and he would always fight anyone who said otherwise) on the side, on top of balancing life. Dan was younger, so much more less experienced with everything, he got overwhelmed with life and spent the majority of his time curled up under his covers surfing through the waves of his latest existential crisis or playing PC video games that he would forget about within the next 24 hours. He was purgatory in the form of a human and an incredibly underwhelming one at that.

He wasn’t sure how long exactly he laid there, stewing in his self-deprecation and wishing that he was better. Better in literally every aspect, maybe then he would finally be worth Phil’s time, if only a little bit. His computer chirped again, and then twice more minutes later in rapid succession, as if angry. Dan grasped for the thing, pulling it up to his chest, lacking the energy to sit back up.

  Phil :) (10:07 PM)

Dan you know im joking right?

Phil :) (10:16 PM)

Dan? you still there? i was joking i promise you can make all the typos you want

u didnt fall asleep did you?

  Dan couldn’t help the watery smile that turned the corners of his mouth up, albeit it being a small one. Phil had that effect on him even if Dan was falling apart on the inside. Just a little though, he was fine.

  Dan ^-^ (10:18 PM)

nooo im not sleeping

Phil :) (10:18 PM)

:(

Dan ^-^ (10:19 PM)

why the frowny face

Dan tried to keep the fear out of his thoughts but the talons of doubt had already settled around his heart. Was Phil mad that he didn’t answer right away? Would-

His laptop signaled the arrival of Phil’s reply, and Dan really didn’t know if he wanted to slam the lid of his computer shut or jump at the opportunity to find out if he had just ruined the best friendship he had ever had. Ever will. He went for the latter.

(Dan supposed he might be overreacting, but then again, when wasn’t he, it seemed?)

  Phil :) (10:20 PM)

did i insult your typing skills one too many times? is that why you disapeared?

*disappeared

Dan used the best coping mechanisms for dealing with his anxiety that he knew: humor and avoidance. Together, they were a formidable force and Dan had spent a large majority of his time perfecting their potency.

  Dan ^-^ (10:20 PM)

now look who’s making the typos

Phil :) (10:20 PM)

Dan.

  He gulped. Now he had done it. Fuck. He had to fix this.

Dan ignored the roar behind his ears that seemed to be screaming that he should just ignore this all, pray that things would magically fix themselves and change the topic. That was his fear talking. His self-abandonment. His anxiety. His everything. Phil was worth so much more. So Dan pushed it all away for just long enough to reply.

  Dan ^-^ (10:21 PM)

sorry, joke

no, thats not why i ran away

i was just thinking, thats all

Phil :) (10:21 PM)

were you doing it again

  Dan tried to pretend that he didn’t know what Phil was talking about and simultaneously cursed himself for telling Phil about his increasing habit for getting lost in his thoughts. He failed. He knew exactly what Phil was talking about.

Back, about three weeks ago in a later-than-normal conversation where all of their inhibitions seemed to dissipate, Dan had finally come clean about how sometimes thoughts got the best of him. He would crumble under them, get so completely and utterly lost in his head that he would sometimes stay there for hours on end, picking apart anything that his conscience decided to dig up. And it hindered Dan, made him hate himself just that much more, made him hate how easily his anxieties held him hostage, stuck. But he couldn’t do much about it, it seemed, for whenever he got lost in his head, he always forgot that he had to get out.

Dan gulped. He had to lie his way out of this. He knew that Phil didn’t like it when Dan got stuck. He could pull off nonchalance, right?

  Dan ^-^ (10:22 PM)

no

Phil :) (10:22 PM)

im not convinced

you were werent you

Dan ^-^ (10:23 PM)

does my word not count for anything lol

Phil :) (10:24 PM)

maybe if we were talking and i could see your face it’d count

Dan ^-^ (10:24 PM)

what’s my face got to do with anything?

Phil’s bubble appeared on the screen once, twice, three times, before he apparently decided on what he was going to say and sent it. The entire time Dan was a few words away from having a breakdown. His hands were shaking. His mind was racing faster than normal. Faster than it had in what seemed like a very long time.

  Phil :) (10:26 PM)

bc then i could tell if you were lying

tho rn i dont even need that

Dan ^-^ (10:26 PM)

are u seriously saying im lying

Phil :) (10:27 PM)

yeah

you did everything that you always do when you arent telling the truth

you joked

changed / focused the conversation onto smth else

and besides

ive gathered that you really dont like to talk about the things that bother you. you like to ignore them and stuff

Dan ^-^ (10:28 PM)

so how bout we not talk about them then

Phil :) (10:29 PM)

normally, maybe

but not with this

Dan ^-^ (10:29 PM)

and why not?

Phil :) (10:29 PM)

bc i dont like it when you beat yourself up in your head

Dan ^-^ (10:30 PM)

who said i was beating myself up in my head

Phil :) (10:30 PM)

… dan :/

youre avoiding again

Dan cursed himself. God, since when could Phil read him like a book?

  Dan ^-^ (10:32 PM)

fine. maybe i am

what are you gonna do about it philly?

Phil :) (10:32 PM)

daaaaannnnnn

you arent allowed to beat yourself up

no ones allowed to

especially you!

  Dan giggled, just a little. He couldn’t help it when Phil was being…well, Phil.

  Dan ^-^ (10:33 PM)

and why not? Hmm?

Phil :) (10:34 PM)

bc youre my favorite person silly

my favorite person cant be sad. its just the rules

Dan ^-^ (10:35 PM)

oh yeah? whose rules then, oh wise philip

Phil :) (10:35 PM)

ew dont call me philip my nan calls me that

and theyre my rules

my rules for my favorite person

Dan ^-^ (10:35 PM)

suuurrreee phil. sure its a rule

*philip

Phil’s cursor didn’t appear seconds after Dan had sent his message like usual. Insead, nothing appeared. Their good-natured banter had eased the storm raging inside of Dan and his thoughts and anxieties had died down a little, much more easier to bear with the distraction Phil was giving him, but with the sudden disappearance of his best friend, they came back full force. All of his doubts spilled into the front of his conscience. He shivered. It wasn’t from the cold.

Dan watched the little digital clock at the bottom of his laptop screen count the minutes falling away. One, two, three, four, five, god did what did he do-

  Phil :) (10:41 PM)

[multimedia image: click to load]

With his heart in his throat, Dan clicked, and a small window appeared, momentarily covering their chat from Dan’s view. It was hard to make out, the quality bad and the image itself grainy and dark, but it was of a piece of paper lying atop two legs clad in bright pyjamas that Dan could immediately connect to Phil and his eccentric personality. He could make out the tip of Phil’s finger at the top of the shot, too. Squinting, he looked at the paper itself, zooming in to make out the words penned in Phil’s handwriting.

  Rules:

1. Dan Howell is my favorite person

2. No one is allowed to make fun of him

3. ESPECIALLY if that “no one” is Dan himself

Dan started to laugh. Only Phil would actually make a list of “rules”. Only Phil.

Before Dan could reply, Phil was typing again.

  Phil :) (10:43 PM)

there. proper rules written on proper paper. you have to follow them now

Dan ^-^ (10:44 PM)

i cant believe that you actually wrote rules you spork

but fine! i guess if i have to lol

Dan was still working heavily with avoiding the whole situation entirely, just like with what he was doing to the problem causing him so much stress to begin with, but he couldn’t help it. It’s just how he was.

  Phil :) (10:46 PM)

so you admit to your crimes xD

but anyways

you were stuck in your head again

which is okay, i mean, i understand that it’s something you cant help

Dan felt like he was going to cry. Phil’s assurance that Dan’s mind running in panicked circles was perfectly okay was almost too much. Phil’s compassion was almost too much.

But it appeared that Phil wasn’t done, because his laptop dinged quietly again.

  Phil :) (10:47 PM)

can i ask whats got you so sad and worried

so i can beat it up

obvs

  Now Dan really wanted to cry. How could he tell Phil that the reason was him? How could he say that the root of this ball of anxiety and stress and worrying that had taken over him was Phil himself?

He couldn’t do that to Phil, not when his best friend would undoubtedly take it hard. God, if Phil knew why Dan kept getting lost in himself, he would be crushed.

  Dan ^-^ (10:51 PM)

noooo

Phil :) (10:51 PM)

are you sure? i wont judge you dan, i swear it doesnt matter if you think i wont like it

i just wanna be here for you

If Dan wasn’t crying earlier, he was now, a few select tears dripping down his cheeks, brimming with the emotions that had been taking over him this past week. Phil was…too much. He was too kind, too sweet, too undeserving of someone like Dan. God, Phil deserved the whole world, he shouldn’t have to settle with Dan.

Another message appeared on Dan’s screen, as but this one didn’t seem like normal, it was a little off, a little rushed, a little…something. Dan couldn’t place it.

  Phil :) (10:53 PM)

bc youre my best friend.

obvs. xD

If Dan wasn’t so out of it and was able to think clearly, he might have questioned Phil’s “clarification” of why and what sense he wanted to be there for him, but Dan was not in the best state of mind and he thought nothing of it.

Dan looked at his screen again. He still had to acknowledge Phil’s question, and he wasn’t sure how to go about it. He wanted to tell Phil he already told him everything, have Phil reassure him and tell him that everything was going to be okay again, like he normally did. But Dan couldn’t. He couldn’t lie again, once was already once too many, and something told Dan that if he tried to ignore it or change the topic, Phil would just call him out again.

Fuck.

  Dan ^-^ (10:56 PM)

it doesnt matter

Phil :) (10:56 PM)

yes it does

its enough to make you get lost in that head of yours, so it matters

Dan ^-^ (10:57 PM)

phil we both know it doesnt take much for me to get lost in my thoughts

Phil :) (10:58 PM)

still

something is bothering you and i want to fix it

Dan bit his lip. God, Phil had no idea how badly he wanted to let him fix this. He couldn’t though. He just couldn’t.

  Dan ^-^ (10:58 PM)

nooo phil, you cant fix this one

Phil :) (10:58 PM)

>:(

you cant even let me try?

  Always, always, but just not with this. Dan couldn’t tell Phil this, not when it would hurt him.

  Dan ^-^ (11:00 PM)

no phil, not with this sorry :(

Phil :) (11:01 PM)

:((((

okay

i may not like it but i can respect that

will you tell me tomorrow?

Dan looked at the screen, thinking about it. Tomorrow was what he was worried about to begin with. Could he tell Phil tomorrow? He wasn’t sure. Well, it didn’t matter if things went good or not, Dan mused, tomorrow Dan’s fears would either be affirmed or destroyed.

He could only hope.

  Dan ^-^ (11:03 PM)

sure

tomorrow

Phil :) (11:03 PM)

yay!!!

  Dan laughed, breathily.

  Phil :) (11:03 PM)

oooh! look at the time!

its getting so late bear wow

guess we should get to sleep so we dont fall asleep on each other tomorrow huh? xD

  Dan’s heart physically melted at the use of Phil’s pet name for him. He only used it occasionally, but it never failed to make Dan’s heart stutter in his chest and the butterflies in his belly to flit around faster, making him feel almost giddy. Hopeful.

God he sounded so stupid right now. Anxious and stressed out of his mind yet still acting like a little kid with their first crush.

Stupid feelings.

  Dan ^-^ (11:05 PM)

yeah i guess we should!

night philly :)

Phil :) (11:05 PM)

goodnight dan!! :D

see you tomorrow!

(ps, idk whats bothering you and thats okay but i hope whatever it is it works out for you :“)  )

Ah yes. That’s what it boiled down to. Tomorrow morning Dan would board a train and take it up to Manchester to spend some time with Phil. The first time that they would see each other in real life, not just behind a computer screen. They had skyped before and texted and chatted for countless hours over countless days, but the thought of tomorrow still made Dan want to throw up.

He wasn’t good enough for Phil. He was just so terrified that tomorrow Phil would see that.

  Dan ^-^ (11:06 PM)

:)

  After hitting send Dan thrust the lid to his laptop down and pushed it off of his chest, letting it fall onto the bed. Dan felt sick again. He was so scared about tomorrow because there were so many things that could go wrong and so many flaws that Phil could discover about Dan and so many, so many, ways for what is supposed to be the best day of Dan’s life to turn out to be his worst.

God, he hated his anxiety for always picking things apart. Always fucking with Dan’s own head.

Dan rolled over and grabbed his duvet, pulling it up and wishing that it would just swallow him whole. Fuck. He couldn’t do it tomorrow. He couldn’t handle this stress.

Taking a deep breath, Dan clutched his duvet tighter in his grasp and tried to keep his lip from wobbling.

Right now he just wanted to sleep. He wanted to forget that he didn’t feel good enough, that yet again his insecurities were screwing him over, that he wanted to cry. He wanted to forget. Unfortunately for Dan the universe didn’t agree and he ended up staying awake for hours after the he had closed his laptop, the entire time doing nothing but thinking, getting lost in his head, and wishing that his thoughts would just turn off.

For once.

Please.

~~~~~~

Dan slung his bag over his shoulder. His fingers felt numb. Unlike his greatest hopes, the fitful-at-best night’s sleep did nothing to alleviate Dan’s terror. If anything, it had only magnified it because now it was today and Dan couldn’t run anymore.

He took a cab to the station, and he ended up being earlier than he needed to be, having about an extra ten minutes to wait for his train. He sat on a bench, his legs nothing but jelly at this point, his fears making it quite easy to foresee his long legs from just giving out on him. Dan didn’t want to make an embarrassment of himself on top of it all, so he tried to calm his racing heart while he sat.

With no luck.

Of course.

Dan looked down at the ticket in his hand. It would be so easy to not go. To walk right out of the station, spend the weekend at home instead of with Phil, and not risk Phil seeing how utterly underwhelming Dan was as a person. He could lie, could say that he ran late, missed his train, maybe his parents changed their minds and didn’t let Dan go.

But God, as Dan looked down at the paper in his trembling hand, he couldn’t help but know that he wouldn’t be able to actually go through with not leaving. He wouldn’t be able to lie to Phil, not about something this big—who was he kidding, he had a hard enough time lying to Phil last night over something so small!

But more than that, Dan knew that it was much more than not being able to lie to Phil. He had wanted to meet Phil ever since he had started to watch his videos, and the sentiment had only increased tenfold with their fast friendship. Phil was now much more than a hero, much more than a few minutes of distraction. He was Phil, Dan’s AmazingPhil, and he was his best friend. That lanky black-haired boy was worth so so much in Dan’s eyes, and he couldn’t, couldn’t, leave him in the dust like that. God it wouldn’t just kill Phil, but it would kill Dan too. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself.

Dan had been thinking too hard. Before he knew it the train was pulling into the station and Dan gulped, raising on still-shaky legs and gripping the strap of his bag so hard he didn’t even have to look to know that his knuckles were blotched white.

As Dan took his seat, a new resolve washed over him. He would go. He would endure this train ride that undoubtedly would be the most anxiety-inducing thing he had done in a very long time—possibly ever—and he would do it for Phil. If Phil would reject him or not, he would try not to dwell on it on the coming trip (a losing battle, Dan knew), but he would still go.

For Phil.

~~~~~

Dan’s heart was going so fast he was sure that he was going to pass out. His hands, his arms, legs, his whole body was trembling.

Manchester’s Piccadilly Station.

Dan was here.

There was a decent amount of people on the station as far as Dan could see as the train pulled in, but none of them looked like his best friend.

The train came to a stop and Dan stood, the first to make it to the doors and there when they opened.

Strangely enough, when the doors pulled open and Dan took a step out into the station, he stopped trembling. His heart slowed—not by much, but it slowed—and this whole thing didn’t seem quite as scary. Sure, Dan’s thoughts were still screaming in his head, sure, his anxiety was still off the charts, and sure, his hands were still sweaty and his breath was still shallow but still. It was as if a calm had washed over him.

Dan wasn’t sure what to make of it. Maybe he was just going into shock.

People busied around him, walking this way and that, talking into cell phones, to other people, some silent. Dan, unsure of everything right now, followed where the general push of people were guiding him, the whole time craning his head, looking for his Phil. He tried not to panic. He tried.

But with every second the calm that had overtook him was shrinking and his anxiety steadily increased.

Did Phil forget? Did he stand me up? Oh God he’s not coming he didn’t come-

"Dan!”

Dan whirled around at the sound of his name, uttered by a voice that sounded so much better when it wasn’t distorted by their shitty computer’s speakers.

Before Dan could register really anything, he was being engulfed in a hug, two strong arms wrapping themselves around Dan’s shoulders, pulling him flush against the figure.

Against Phil.

And instantly all of the shouting in Dan’s head was gone. The slight tremble in his hands vanished, and for the first time in a week, his anxiety was gone without a trace. Dan felt like crying.

Dan gasped in surprise, his brain taking a moment to reboot because Phil didn’t forget, didn’t stand him up, didn’t change his mind, and suddenly Dan felt very, very stupid because how could he ever think that Phil would do something like that. This was Phil, the kindest person on the planet.

Phil pulled away, just a little, just enough so they could see each other’s faces, and Dan had to keep himself from pulling Phil back in.

His smile was so wide, easily the widest Dan had ever seen it. And his eyes, oh God those eyes were a thousand times clearer, a thousand times more mesmerizing than behind a screen. Dan didn’t doubt for a second that he could stand here and look into them for the rest of the day without tiring of their never-ending beauty. Fuck. Why did his eyes have to be so gorgeous.

Dan tore his eyes away from Phil’s and looked over the rest of him, from his broad shoulders that Dan wanted to wrap his arms around, to the tussle of his hair that Dan craved to run his fingers through and the line of his jaw that Dan felt the need to trace. Double fuck. Why did the entirety of Phil have to be gorgeous.

“Dan! I can���t believe you’re here! I have today all planned out; I’m going to show you everything!” Phil said excitedly, a twinkle as clear as day in his eyes. Phil was practically vibrating with excitement and it made a smile spread over Dan’s features. Phil’s happiness was contagious.

Phil stopped his rambling, looking down at Dan sheepishly.

“I mean, if that’s all okay with you. If you don’t want to do something that’s okay, I totally get it. We can do anything you want, I-”

Dan tilted his head back and laughed, laughed because Phil seemed nervous. Phil was nervous and it was adorable.

“Yeah, yeah Phil it’s all fine. All of it, don’t worry. I just can’t believe you want to do it all with me.”

Phil’s smile faded a little, and the twinkle in his eye got that much smaller. He looked a little sad.

“Was this what you were so worried about? That I wouldn’t like you?”

Dan bit his lip and looked down, giving a little nod.

Phil pulled Dan right back into a hug, but this time it felt even more real, and it was impossibly tighter. It felt like Phil was pulling all of Dan’s lost pieces together. Phil’s voice was in his ear.

“Of course I like you, Dan. You’re my best friend. I like you more than anyone else. Promise.”

Dan might have just felt like crying, in that moment. Phil accepted him. He wasn’t going to leave him. Things were okay. They were okay.

He knew that this would hit him later, maybe tonight when he had a chance to process things. He’d probably cry out of relief, but it would all be okay because Phil would be there to hold him together and ease all of Dan’s worries.

Soon enough they set off, hand in hand, and Dan was smiling so wide, so, so wide. He couldn’t have been happier with how things had turned out.

Dan looked sideways at Phil, trying to not be too obvious.

This had worked out so maybe, just maybe, something else could work out for him.

~~~~~

Dan stood at the window, a cup of coffee in his hand. It was early, and he could see the technicolor dream across the sky that was that morning’s sunrise. The steam from his coffee rose from the rim of the cup and slowly diffused into nothing; tendril-like hands wisped up and around Dan’s neck.

It had been nearly nine years.

Dan’s nervousness and dark thoughts never ceased to plague him, however, he learned to deal with it better. He could confidently say that he has never been happier.

It had been nearly nine years, and they were still inseparable. Their channels had grown exponentially, and they boasted an insanely large fan community.

As the years had gone by, their strong, unbreakable friendship slowly blossomed into something remarkably beautiful. Their long Skype calls turned into late night kisses, and they had been happily in love for nearly nine years.

Dan twisted the ring on his third finger. As well as being happily in love, they were also engaged to be married within the next year. Lately, he’d been waking up in complete disbelief.

The thing Dan had wanted so desperately to work out for him did, and in the most perfectly perfect way possible.

[bnha-rebloggs]

I've never had a thing for Sero untill now-

Washing Dishes (Discord Collab)

Sero’s been your roommate for almost nine months, but you don’t know much about him. Now, though, you’re both stuck social distancing in your apartment, and it’s hard not to fall for a guy when you’re washing dishes together.

Pairing: Pro Hero!Sero Hanta x GN!Reader Request: None Genre: Fluff Warning(s): Minor language, minor innuendo Word Count: 9,084 A/N: My fic for the Crackhead Sanctuary collab, the server run by Sof/@myherowritings​. They’re all comfort fics about quarantine/social distancing. Here’s the masterlist, go check out the others! This one really got away from me, kinda insane. But I’m really proud of it; I think it’s very cute!

You’ve had more than a few roommates in your life. Growing up you’d shared a room with your younger sister, your dorm in high school was a rare three-person room, and once you’d moved on to college it was only a revolving door of new people to live with.

Moving into your first apartment had been a little intimidating, especially combined with the start of senior year and a new internship intended to turn into a career come graduation. You were tentative at best to answer the ad—but it took little more than a quick Google of the name to decide that Sero Hanta had seemed to be telling the truth about being a pro hero. When you met him he was certainly the man you’d seen in the sports festival videos and pictures.

Now, nine months later, you couldn’t be happier with the decision. Sero’s a model roommate; he’s never missed a rent payment, buys his share of groceries, cleans his room and takes out the trash when it’s his turn. Even his style of decor is remarkably top-notch for a 22 year old man.

If you had one complaint though, it would be that he’s a goddamn ghost.

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