#WELL I SPENT LIKE WEEKS ON TRYING TO FIGURE OUT A WAY TO DRAW HIM

[nothingbizzare]

Drew teru with star shaped glasses

[cobrakaisb]

ciao bella

summary: you and theo spend a summer in italy, and some insecurities are revealed

word count: 849

author's note: the ending is lowkey shit, but i really liked the concept.

“theo,” you called, waiting for your boyfriend’s hum of acknowledgment before continuing. “can you rub some sunscreen on my back? i don’t want to burn.” he grumbled a response in that low tone of his, but you heard the sound of the lotion bottle, letting you know that he was fulfilling your request. 

you sighed in relief as theo rubbed the cool lotion on your back, arching ever so slightly as the feeling contrasted your sun kissed skin. he placed a gentle kiss on your shoulder, “relax love.” you sighed again, sinking further into the lounge chair set up on the balcony overlooking lake como. the stunning view, large villa, and established atmosphere reminded you just how rich your boyfriend was. 

when he approached you after the holiday break during fifth year with a letter and plane ticket to italy, you were shocked. it was a little unexpected, considering that your relationship was relatively new, so you found yourself hesitant to agree. it took pansy, millie, and daphne’s words of encouragement to convince you that this trip was a good idea. spending a month in italy didn’t scare you, in fact it was a bonus to get away from your own familial issues, and of course, some alone time with your boyfriend couldn’t hurt. it was the itinerary, rather, that made you question your sanity and willingness to go.

you were flying in from london to milan, via muggle transportation, where you were spending three days in a luxury hotel. from there you were going to his family’s villa at lake como, where you’d reside for two weeks, soaking up the sun and rich atmosphere. at the beginning of the third week, the two of you were taking a private car to spend the day in florence before heading to rome for another three days. the remainder of the trip would be spent between the amalfi coast and sorrento. 

the whole thing was a lot, and everything surrounding the trip exuded wealth. between the luxury hotels, first class tickets, private tours, designer outfits, and theo’s eagerness to take you on various shopping sprees, you felt like you were in over your head. granted, your family was well off, but not nearly as financially stable as theodore’s. maybe that’s why it was hard for you to truly relax; the worry about paying theo back was eating you away, slowly but surely. 

“you’re not relaxing,” he mumbled, drawing you from your racing thoughts to the serene environment. you huffed at his words. “i’m trying too,” you replied. theo could hear the worry in your voice; he could feel it emitting off you like the faint blue glow of a patronus. he set the bottle of lotion down, climbing off your back to sit in his own lounger. he turned to face you. “what are you so worried about, darling? tell me and i’ll fix it,” he begged. you knew his blue eyes were wide and pleading behind the dark frames of his sunglasses. 

“i don’t know how you’ll be able to fix it. it think i just need to figure it out on my own,” you explained softly, not wanting to hurt his feelings, or make him feel like you were withholding information from him. (even though you technically were.) by the end of your sentence, theo had moved from his chair back to yours, taking a hold of your hand. 

his olive skin was warm and a shade darker than usual, probably from all the sun you’d been getting these past couple of weeks. his thumb rubbed gently across the back of your hand, a habit that he developed as a way to soothe your nerves and anxiety. you sighed, a deep one at that, before opening your mouth to confess. before you could truly process what you were saying, filtering the things that you didn’t necessarily want him to know, you had told theo everything; how you felt like you’d never be able to pay him back, and how you wondered if splurging on you was really worth it.  

once you finished, you took another breath to calm yourself down. you risked a hesitant glance at theodore, who’s grip on your hand had tightened over the course of your rambling. it was silent between the two of you, and you were afraid to break it. finally, theo licked his lips before looking towards you. “fuck darling, don’t ever worry about that. you being here is all the payback i need,” he explained softly, his free hand tracing the bridge of your nose. 

“theo,” you trailed off, but he silenced you with a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “you’re wearing my ring, yeah?” he asked, gesturing to the silver ring that hung on a chain around your neck. “always,” you answered. “exactly. what’s mine is yours, and it forever will be,” he replied, kissing the back of your hand as you felt your cheeks heat up. 

“now sit back and relax.” maybe spending a month with theo, the boy you loved, in italy wasn’t such a bad idea.

[factual-fantasy]

Happy 1st Birthday Jangles!!

This post was originally going to be a humongous comic filled with lore, goofs, and even a bit of angst? 👀 And then have a funny/wholesome ending. Just like Bibi’s birthday comic.

But.. I ran into a problem. I didn’t know what to get for Jangles.

For Bibi’s present it was obvious what to get him. He wanted a real friend. Bringing Jangles to life was perfect and really tied the whole comic together.

But Jangles? What does he want? 

I wracked my brain for days. And when I finally thought of an idea? I only had 8 days left to make it happen. Sketch the comic out on paper, sketch it again in digital, line it, color it, backgrounds, dialogue.. I also had to make the actual present so that its picture could be used in the comic. All while having a very busy schedule for this week AND while working on Moon Malfunction..

I thought I could pull it off. So I got to sketching right away.

The comic would start with me in a big black blob. Locking myself away to try and get this project done as fast as possible. You know, like a total drama queen XD

Bibi and Jangles break in, and Bibi tries to talk to me but I ignore him. Meanwhile Jangles goes over to this goopy present by the wall. The present has a tag with Jangles name on it. As he goes to open it I do a spoopy jump scare and tell him not to.  Jangles and I then proceed to go back and fourth. “Why not?” Because its not good enough yet. “I’m sure its fine, what is it? What’s it for?” I cant tell you what its for because its not that day yet. “What is that day? And why cant we know about it?” “BECAUSE, its a S E C R E T-”

Bibi then says I need a break. I tell him I cant because I’m running out of time. I tell him that it needs to be posted on a specific day and that it has to be perfect but I don’t know what to do..

Jangles then deadpans “Its my birthday isn’t it?”

“...Yes. It is.”

“Okay? So what? I get wanting to post it on the day. But why all this pressure for the perfect gift?”

I explain that Bibi got a big special comic for his birthday. It had all the bells and whistles and it had the perfect gift. Jangles. And I wanted to do the same for him. I explained that the problem though was I haven’t really written enough of Jangles character to know what he would want.. I then wrote for Jangles response to be,

“Well what I dont want is you stressing yourself out over me.”

..I stopped sketching the comic at that point. I realized that I was stressing myself out way too much over this comic. It was 1 in the morning at that point. I was already pushing myself so hard to get this done on time and make it perfect that all the fun was just zapped right out of it. 

But I still worried a bit. I care about Jangles as my character and I wanted to do something cool for him. I wanted to post this at midnight on the dot, but that would require me to stay up until then when I’m still wiped out from the day before.. I also still wanted to get him a cool present.. But again I figured Jangles wouldn’t want me to stress over this “big comic” and “special gift” stuff.  So I just settled for a break. 

This entire post was prepared early, and posted when ever I was awake enough to post it. All the days beforehand I spent just taking my time with Moon Malfunction and focusing on my schedule. And on the day I’m posting it, I plan to draw nothing. Just relax and take a break from everything. I’ll get back around to all my projects tomorrow.

I think a post with minimal effort and day of no Tumblr, is probably exactly what Jangles would have wanted. So Happy Birthday Jangles! And thanks for the day off! XD

[cinnamontoastcrunch-15]

Happy Anniversary?

Marlene's the first one to bring it up.

Remus is just sitting, trying to do his transfiguration homework in the common room when she pipes up.

"Hey, Remus, isn't your anniversary soon?" That's enough to draw his attention, head snapping up with a confused frown. "Any plans?"

"...anniversary?" He asks. Marlene looks at him like he's just spoken another language, or that he's magically turned into a brick wall.

"Yeah. Are you doing anything for it?"

"I have no clue what you're on about," he says simply, expecting that to be the end of that. However, a knowing smile finds its way onto Marlene's face, and she nods.

"Ah, right. I get it," she says with a wink, only befuddling Remus more.

Still, he doesn't think anyone else is going to bring it up.

As it turns out, everyone seems to think he has some big anniversary coming up. Lily congratulates him, Mary says she "always knew it was going to last forever", even Edgar Bones nudges him and whispers a quick "well done".

Somehow, and Remus has no clue how, he did something noteworthy a year ago. He's also completely unaware as to what. Nobody answers him when he asks, so he simply starts offering a polite smile and moving on with his day. There's some strange misunderstanding happening, and it'll probably blow over soon.

Probably.

It takes reaching the 'anniversary' date to figure out what the fuck is going on.

He's finally gotten some time with Sirius after he's been stuck in back-to-back detentions, walking down to the Black Lake together and just... chatting. It's really nice being able to spend time with Sirius outside of his classes again, even if it sends his stomach spinning and diving. As they talk, they pass Dorcas, who turns and calls to the two of them.

"Happy anniversary, guys!"

She's gone before they can ask any questions, leaving Remus with the same confused feeling as before. He opens his mouth to explain the situation to Sirius, only for Sirius to beat him to it.

"That's been happening all week," he says, puzzled, which stops Remus in his tracks.

"It has?"

He isn't walking anymore, and Sirius stops with him, elaborating with a frown.

"Yeah. Everyone's been going on and on about some anniversary. I don't know what-"

"They've been doing it to me too," Remus interjects quickly, almost under his breath. Sirius catches it though, eyes widening as he reaches the same conclusion as Remus has at the same bloody time.

It's them.

It's all about them.

All of the knowing glances, the congratulations, even the weird fucking winks. They all think Remus and Sirius are dating. Not only that, but they've thought that for a year? The thought sends too many emotions running through him. Shock, confusion and, oddly enough, bitterness. He's fallen asleep every night for months with Sirius on his mind. The thought of kissing him, being with him, belonging to him. He's spent too long biting back his confessions, the very obvious and frustrating fact that he's in love with Sirius Black, because he doesn't want to destroy their friendship, and his friends have just swooped in and made things so much more difficult!

"It's our fucking anniversary, isn't it?" Sirius says quietly, before glancing behind him. "Hold on," he says to Remus, turning right back around and going in the same direction Dorcas has just gone. He seems to involuntarily grab Remus' hand, Remus having no choice but to follow him helplessly.

They get to the Great Hall in time for lunch. Remus is a little pissed that everyone's weird obsession with their imaginary anniversary is interrupting the picnic they had planned.

"Guys." The two of them stop on front of the group, Sirius doing the talking, thank fuck. To be perfectly honest, Remus feels pretty speechless. "D'you lot think Remus and I are dating?"

"Yeah?" James says simply, wrinkling his nose like it's just a fact of life. "Everyone knows you're together."

"...we're not," Sirius says slowly, carefully, sending the group lapsing into silence, exchanging confused glances.

"Okay, that's doesn't make any sense," Lily says, everybody else nodding in agreement. "You're literally together all the time."

"Because we're friends," Sirius explains, and Remus really isn't sure what to say. Good thing he doesn't have to, because the back and forth doesn't stop.

"If Remus is in the hospital wing, you're there until Madame Pomfrey kicks you out," James offers.

"I care about him!" Sirius argues, but something about what James has said has hit him in a strange way, Remus hears the shift in his tone, feels the slight tightening of his grip on Remus' hand.

"You're holding hands right now," Mary says pointedly, and Sirius looks down at their connected hands like he had forgotten it had happened. Still, he has a reason for that one too.

"I hold everyone's hand."

He really doesn't want people to think he's dating Remus, does he?

"Not that much," Peter mumbles under his breath, and Remus almost wants to laugh.

"Sorry, does nobody find it strange that we've never kissed, then?" James shrugs.

"Not really. Figured you didn't like PDA."

"Okay, then... we've never called each other boyfriends, never been on a date-"

"Right, that one's just not true," Marlene says with a snort. Remus frowns, confused. Have they been on a date? Surely he'd know, right? "You go to Hogsmeade together all the time, you run off to 'study' every chance you get, and you're picnicking today."

"We're friends? Friends spend time together," Sirius says quickly, and Remus is really starting to struggle. He doesn't want to stand there while Sirius explains how ridiculous the concept of them dating is.

Instead of putting a stop to the conversation, Remus takes the coward's way out. He pulls his hand free from Sirius', turns, and walks away.

"Moony, wait-"

Remus pointedly ignores Sirius' call to him, aiming to get to the dorm and just wallow in self-pity for fifteen minutes. That way, he can act like he's fine and just go to the bloody picnic.

His hip, however, has other plans.

It twinges right as he reaches the stairs, forcing him to a halt with a sharp inhale. His hand involuntarily goes to the bannister at the bottom of the stairs, trying to get some of the weight off it. Unfortunately for him, it means Sirius catches up too quickly. To be honest, he hadn't even realised that Sirius was following him, but he arrives at his side in a matter of seconds.

"Moony, are you alright?" Remus lets his eyes sink shut for half a second, frustrated. "I'm sorry, I didn't realise they were upsetting you that much."

"It's not- it's just- it's nothing, I'm fine," Remus settles on, offering Sirius a tired smile.

"Moons, s'fine. I know how stupid you think it is." Sirius takes another step forward, acting as though he hasn't just confused the fuck out of Remus.

"What d'you mean? That's not why..." he trails off, not sure how to verbalise any of his thoughts without telling Sirius everything. Sirius fills it in for him, though.

"It's okay, really. You don't have to spare my feelings, or anything. I know you don't feel the same way," Sirius says with a shrug, sending Remus' mind reeling in a matter of seconds.

The same way.

The same fucking way?

Just like that, Remus is malfunctioning. Firstly, when the Hell did Sirius start liking him back? He's spent months having to reel in his own emotions, spending time with Sirius and accepting the sad reality that he's never going to be with him in a romantic way. Finally, just finally, he's started to come to terms with his own unrequited emotions, accept and embrace his friendship with Sirius, and they're not even bloody unrequited?

Also, when did they talk about it? How has Sirius come to the conclusion that Remus doesn't like him? Christ, Remus is fucking in love with him!

That's enough to spur Remus to talk.

"What?"

Okay, maybe he can't form full sentences right now, but he'll get there. Hopefully. Sirius just scrunches his nose up, confused.

"Moony, I get it, it's honestly okay. You don't like me, and didn't want to hear them all jumping to conclusions," He explains, and it only throws Remus more.

"No, that's not it," Remus says quickly, stunned that any words are coming out, even if they're pretty unhelpful words.

All he can do is look at Sirius. Beautiful, amazing, kind Sirius, who crushed his own feelings because he thought they were upsetting Remus. Merlin, he can't take it anymore. Clearly words aren't working for him right now, he has to try something else. Something that will express every single emotion that he has bottled up since he first went tripping and falling head over heels for his best friend.

His solution? Kiss the prat before he has a chance to second guess himself.

With that, he reaches out, grabs Sirius' jacket with one hand, pulls him in, and kisses him. At first, Sirius freezes, stunned, and Remus has an awful panic that he's gotten everything all wrong. Luckily for him, Sirius finally registers that Remus is kissing him and kisses him back.

It's...

Christ, it's everything Remus has ever imagined and more. It's like time stops as Remus' stomach swirls. Sirius' lips are soft against his, and his kiss is explorative, fucking mind blowing. He wraps his arms around Sirius' waist, feeling Sirius lean into the touch as he reaches out and cups Remus' cheek.

After what could be an hour, a few minutes, even a few seconds, just definitely not enough time, they both break away. Unfortunately, breathing exists, and Remus kind of needs to remember how to do that. Almost in unison, their foreheads press together, and Remus can feel a smile making its way onto his face.

"Well," Sirius starts, amused, "I guess this is our anniversary, then."

[epiicaricacy-arts]

without the sour the sweet wouldn’t taste

why are you as a man eating another man’s ear after you failed to make him eat his ex girlfriend. 🤨🏳️‍🌈⁉️

im allowed a bit of toxic yaoi. as a treat

process discussion utc ⬇️

for those familiar with my work you’ll know that i like trying a lot of new styles and experimenting in order to achieve a certain vibe. usually those are heavy painterly styles such as the sunday art inspired by Yuming Li, which is what i’m familiar and comfortable with, both traditionally and digitally

what im NOT familiar with is watercolour. i’ve never had a good time with it 🥲 i just cant seem to wrap my head around the process since its requires me to work backwards (light to dark vs dark to light)

for this piece i just couldn’t imagine myself rendering it in my usual style. i needed to do something new so that i’d stay invested enough in the piece considering that it has two people, meaning double the work. for some reason i thought it’d be fun to do double the work with a style i am completely uncomfortable with but oh well!! i managed to do it 🤷‍♀️ i was specifically looking at the works of Ko Byung Jun, an artist i’ve seen all over my pinterest feed

while i didn’t end up really following the style super closely i still learned quite a lot just by looking at it while i drew. i tried my best to stick to watercolour brushes and an ink pen but as i was nearing the end i needed to make some alterations that i wasn’t bothered to try fixing with the watercolour brushes so i just went over it with my digital ones 🫡 i did my best that’s what matters!!!

i had to repaint rody a few times cause i just couldn’t get it right and the colours never ended up matching vincent. i painted them separately and i think i got possessed while painting vincent cause it happened in like. 40 minutes. and i couldn’t get it to happen again 😔 it didn’t really matter cause i ended up going ham with the curves tool as always but you know 🤷‍♀️

here’s the image without all the effects:

i find lately it’s been more and more common for me to be sketching several iterations of a concept for days, even weeks before i land on something i like. i have an entire separate canvas that i’ve spent 5 hours just doing thumbnails trying to figure out how i wanted to pose these two in a way that would showcase the characteristics that mattered in the story of this piece.

that’s my process for coming up with drawings: i find inspiration somewhere, i figure out the key concepts/characteristics/symbols etc i want highlighted, and i work around those. sometimes i have a composition in mind or just a general vibe i want to portray. for this one i wanted to make sure the towel, rody’s injured finger and vincent’s face could all be clearly seen, while also portraying the fight scene and the vibe i get from the reference song. almost all of my work revolves around a specific lyric from the song which drives the story of the piece. here i interpreted the line “without the sour the sweet wouldn’t taste” as a connection to all the little actions vince takes with rody that can be seen as “sweet.” drying rody’s hair, bandaging rody’s cut. i then asked myself how i could take those actions and make them “sour” or show them in a different light, in which vince is biting the finger he bandaged and pulling rody closer, preventing his escape with the towel he used to dry his hair. what im trying to communicate in this illustration is the idea of “if it weren’t for how i’m treating you now, you wouldn’t understand how kind i was to you then” in an attempt to illustrate the complexities of the way vincent acts towards rody.

i’m truly in love with the story telling of this game. it’s hard to really say anything about how the characters acted during the story because it’s so complex in how it’s done. it’s very hard to summarize their relationship because there’s so much about it i can’t explain without just quoting the game directly. i think it’s such a beautiful portrayal of obsession and just being fucking weird about someone. i wanted to ensure the elements i mentioned in the above paragraph because i didn’t want to be portraying vincent as solely a villain and rody as a victim. i wanted the storytelling of this one illustration to live up to my impression of this beautiful game and i hope i did it justice.

thank you for reading this if you’ve made it this far. i love rambling on all my art posts cause i think it’s so valuable for artists to expand on their work outside of the result alone. i hope what im saying is at most helpful to someone and at the very least a good read. i’m probably gonna take a bit of an art break after this since it took a lot out of me, plus im on the last days of my trip. thank you again for reading!

here’s my dog

[sardonic-the-writer]

𝐀𝐥𝐞𝐣𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐨 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐀 𝐓𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐀𝐧 𝐀𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

↳ warnings: none

↳ song: poor girl—x

↳ notes: a special for my friend @no-interest-rightnow !!! go show them some love. this is shit but i wanted to get it out fast

masterlist!

• World Tour is a pain in the ass for Alejandro

• As much fun dealing with Owen and the rest of his team is, he gets tired keeping up appearances all the time

• Or, as he would more accurately say, "being charming all the time has its downsides."

• Time spent venting in the confessional can only get him so far

• And as more and more episodes stretched by, Alejandro comes to realize he liked being around you of all people

• You were one of the more sane ones on this season compared to the likes of Izzy and Sierra

• At first, he has a hard time figuring you out. What made you tick and all that. How he could get you to fall for him, just to end up pushing you out the plane's door to the ground below

• But you were always so quick to turn down his advances, opting for your own corner of, well, whatever it is you do

• The closest Alejandro ever came to unearthing more about you was when he caught you doodling on your arm in pen

• "And what do we have here?" He had grinned down at you, hands on his hips as he watched your eyes dart up to look at him

• "Uhm. Me?" You deadpanned, not even bothering to stop what you were doing

• He resisted the urge to roll his eyes at that

• After a bit of awkward silence you had sighed and patted the wooden seat next to you. Apprehensive, Alejandro sat down

• It took a minute, but he went on to learn why exactly you had signed up for this show—even sharing a bit of his personal life with you

• Maybe it was the fact that was the first normal conversation he'd had in weeks, but Alejandeo didn't have as hard of a time opening up to you

• He even let you draw a smile face or two on his arm

• "Listen dude." You had said while doing it, not looking up from your sketching, "I know your game. It's smart, don't get me wrong. But try not to rope me into it okay? I don't crush easily."

• Alejandro just smiled

• "One thing about me is that I love a challenge." He smirked. You hit him in the head with your pen for that

• From then on he did his best to win you over. Offering to pose for your art, getting as close as possible to you at all times, etc. Alejandro wasn't lying when he said he enjoyed a challenge. It was a lot more fun that way

[hifugoro]

Picturing Ren eventually distancing himself from Akechi after accepting Maruki’s deal.. Picturing him weighing the idea of them not being friends anymore in his head the night of 2/2—since he figures that Akechi wouldn’t want to—and slowly becoming more resolute to do it himself after seeing Akechi back to detective prince mode….

“Have your regrets begun?” is a scalding line in it’s own context of Akechi being gone but I think it applies twice as much in this scenario. Is Akechi really happy here? Was his TV persona drawing upon a place of real joy, or is this Maruki’s vision of a Happy Goro Akechi? Or, worse, Akechi had an OkumuraMadarame™ pulled on him. Ren’s wish was granted before he spent any time with the “real” Akechi (in quotes because I have other unrelated thoughts on his behavior during 3rd semester) in a way that didn’t end with one of them dying. Therefore it’s an admittedly reasonable assumption that those feelings of closeness came solely from Akechi’s other personality. There’s also the Vey Important dialogue with Maruki where Ren can say his heart aches when he gets betrayed. And I mean. You know.

So, let’s switch him back to the polite Akechi who would never betray anyone. He’s alive because Maruki wants him to live a good life as well, sure, but him being here was Ren’s wish. As messed up as it is it’s pretty obvious who comes first and foremost. Maruki thinks all happiness is real, even if it means entirely destroying who you are, anyway.

And I don’t think Ren would be able to come to terms with that. He’d try to reason it with himself for the first few weeks (maybe Akechi didn’t really think he was too unlovable to show any real parts of himself to the public. maybe this is genuine) but it wouldn’t work in the end. It doesn’t help that Akechi hadn’t even been angry when he said their deal was off, he just looked hurt. Acting like nothing is wrong after betraying someone like that, whether they remember or not, just isn’t something Ren could do forever.

So he doesn’t. He stops going to see him. Stops returning Akechi’s texts. Doesn’t reply to the follow up texts of Akechi being confused as to why they suddenly aren’t speaking anymore. He can’t even imagine going to the jazz club, the real Akechi’s safe haven, after everything is finished. The other thieves may talk about Akechi from time to time since they’re all friends now, which hurts him to hear, but guilt can’t be outweighed that easily.

Damning the entire world to save one person who didn’t even want to be saved is a selfish action born entirely of Ren’s own feelings towards letting Akechi die again. Does following that up with a selfless one—letting him drift away even if he desperately wants to reach out, because Ren knows Akechi wouldn’t realistically forgive him for taking the deal—cancel it out? Does it make anything better? Does it matter?

And at the end of the day, Akechi’s pain over losing the closest relationship he has likely wouldn’t even last. Sadness doesn’t mean anything here. After a while, Ren probably won’t even be missed. Maybe he realizes that this is the case and commits to it anyway. A roundabout apology for something Akechi doesn’t even know he did

[lurkingshan]

Japanese QL Corner

It's a quieter week as a few shows have just wrapped and the next wave hasn't started yet, but there is still Japanese ql airing, including what is shaping up to be an all time fav. Both of these current airing shows are on Gaga and I highly recommend watching!

Love is Better the Second Time Around

This show is so good, and so mature in exactly the way I hoped. And I don't mean mature as in explicit--there is sex in this show but it's not some wild heat level. It's mature in that it's a story about characters who know themselves, know what they want, and draw boundaries. Both Iwanaga and Miyata are going down as favorite characters for me; I especially love that Miyata is a more knowing and self aware spin on a really well known bl archetype (think Rain from LITA but if he actually knew exactly why he was reacting the way he was to Payu and was mad about it instead of just overwhelmed and confused). This week we got a lot deeper into his teenage hurt over Iwanaga and now have a firm understanding of why he's alternately giving into and resisting this attraction. I am looking forward to Iwanga figuring out how to repair the damage he caused and earn his trust back.

My Strawberry Film

This was easily my favorite episode so far of this meandering little show. Every week I am left wondering what exactly this drama is trying to say and be; it certainly doesn't feel like a bl. We have spent the vast majority of our time on doomed het romance while Ryo quietly pines for his oblivious friend in the background. But this week we finally got to know Minami outside of Hikaru's narrow gaze, and I like her a lot. Her scene with Ryo where they discussed their romantic woes and established each other as a safe zone was very sweet, and showed how perceptive she is about all these dynamics happening around her. I was discussing with @bengiyo whether the show is going for an aromantic read with her, and I'm not sure. I see the makings of it, but the presentation of her feelings on romance feels a bit muddled. I loved her calling Hikaru out on being self-centered and having absolutely no patience for his petty jealousy. Hikaru thinks he likes her, but he doesn't actually know her (or his own best friend). I liked the final scene between Ryo and Hikaru as well, and the terrible angst of Ryo's confession that he immediately took back. The way the lights and audio from oncoming traffic played over his face in that scene was a really fantastic way to communicate both a moment of clarity and a moment of fear in the aftermath. I'm curious to see where this show takes the ending; a romantic conclusion for the two boys would not feel genuine to me at this point, but I could see them leaving us on a note of burgeoning curiosity and hope.

Bonus: No Touching At All

I recently watched this 2014 jbl on @twig-tea's recommendation, and I really loved it (I have already watched it twice and will definitely be doing so again). This is a classic office romance between a young gay man, Shima, and his "straight" boss, Toga. It's a simple story but well executed, and the film has a strong sense of place that I really loved. Shima and Toga have a fairly instantaneous attraction, and Toga is the kind of laidback character who simply never gave much thought to his sexuality and doesn't care about the fact that Shima is a man; he likes who he likes. Shima, however, is carrying a lot of internalized homophobia and trauma from closeted men messing him around in the past, and has a hard time believing in Toga's sincerity. I really love the way this conflict plays out in the story, and I especially love the way Toga talks to Shima. He's a no bullshit kind of guy and he tries his best to reassure Shima, but he's not a pushover, either. Ultimately Shima has to work through his own insecurities and make the choice to be brave to make the relationship work. The ending of this one is amazing and left me feeling very confident in this couple, and I can't recommend it highly enough. It's the grey for this one, unfortunately, but if you have trouble finding it in HQ let me know and I'll point you (don't watch it on YT, the version on there is potato quality).

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

May I please have a Wally with a reader that is somehow sentient and aware with knowing they've somehow got stuck in this tv show and are heavely aware Wally has something to do with it?

So they're extra closed up about themselves, stay home a lot to avoid the puppets in overly social gathering (like they can handle two or three of them but not all at once as it's too overwhelming with happy shizzles and stuff), yet that doesn't mean they don't talk at all to them. They don't keep their mouth shut either when something's bothering them, like when they get annoyed when Wally stares too long at them and makes a comment about it or genuinely admit they dislike Home with how disturbing it seems to them.

Wally somehow doesn't mind as he's genuinely interested in them and wants to become their friend as best as possible, not for any reason with manipulation, just pure friendly business. But as the reader knows he's the main star of the show they're forced to play in, they know the camera follows him almost always, thus they avoid him like the plague which causes a cat and mouse play between you two. Wally trying to get closer to you with perhaps making paintings and gifts for you while you just casually dip out of there while somehow looking like you don't hate him.

(It would be even funnier if you somehow became the second favorite character of the show as you stand out a lot with your attitude and being the only human being there, perhaps even attracting teens to watch the show with your remarks at the puppets for a certain someone not even having a nose or eyebrows and your monotone voice singing and having no energy with dancing once you somehow get stuck in a song sequence with the others (kind of like red guy from dhmis)

Funny thing is, sadly for Wally, is that you get along well with Frank and Eddie as they're the more calm ones, Eddie still joyfull a lot, but more calmer than Julie and Howdy perhaps are.

So there's Wally, staring with the most confused and slight jealous eyes as he watches you joke around and actually smile with the duo/couple(?) while you always give him a frown that's somehow even deeper than Franks.

Sorry for the slight ramble and long explanation (I'm a fanfic writer myself), just wanted to give a summary of how I see it and wondering how you'd think this would work out.

Btw, reader doesn't hate Wally, they're just warry and uncomfortable with his stares and Home in general, and with the knowledge that's he's one of the reasons they're stuck here. They soften up to him a little eventually, like letting him hug them shortly or talking more casual with him, but no way he ever sees them entering his house.

This was so long I'm so sorry.

Anyway, have a great day/night!

Oh don't worry I think this is a great idea! I like how fleshed-out it is!

...........

You have only spent a week in the neighborhood...before realizing something was terribly, terribly wrong with the world surrounding you.

At first, this place seemed like nothing but sunshine and rainbows--full of fun, joy, color, and friendship. A place that one could only dream of living in all their life, free of worry or strife.

It felt comforting and safe, so when you started having these weird feelings that not everything was as it seemed..you figured you were just nervous about settling into a new place.

But when the folks here asked where you were from, you'd end up drawing a blank...starting to question where you really did come from. So you'd simply tell them you're just "out of town" and leave it at that, although you always sounded uncertain about it.

And there's something else that was especially peculiar: every activity the neighbors did almost always stopped at the end of the day. It seemed strange to you since there's plenty of things you could do. Like campfires or stargazing!

So one evening, you asked all of your neighbors why they rarely hung out during the night, and they had relatively normal responses: Eddie says it's tricky to deliver mail at nighttime; Howdy was too tired from working at the bugdega all day; Barnaby and Sally had to plan their next stunts, tricks, and plays; Julie and Frank wanted to get their "beauty sleep"; and Poppy needed to take care of things back at the barn.

All seemed to be perfectly reasonable answers...

Until you got to Wally.

He looked as though he was ready to respond...only to fall quiet and stare off into space, as though he was in another world. But the fact that his pupils seemed to dilate gave you the chills for some reason, and you calmly tried snapping him out of his trance.

Then he did, and quietly said something about Home "disliking" it whenever he stays out too late. And he bid you goodnight before leaving.

That exchange was the moment you realized something was very off about him beyond his staring habits. It's like he didn't know exactly what to say.

As if...it's such an unusual question for him, but normal to you.

And out of nowhere, the truth hit you like a truck:

This whole place was just one big TV show, with all of you trapped inside as the unwitting stars who were meant to follow certain "scripts" during your daily interactions.

You don't know how or why you knew that, but it became clearer when you constantly got the feeling that your movements were being watched.

You could sense eyes on you even when you were alone.

And sometimes you'd hear indistinguishable voices of adults and children alike while you slept, unable to discern whether they were merely in your dream or existed in reality. It must have been the former, considering none of the other neighbors said they heard anything.

To you, these people...these "viewers", sounded like they were in a faraway land--an unreachable place where you couldn't call out to them for answers no matter how hard you tried.

You knew nothing about them, but they knew everything about you.

Your character had become so fascinating to them from the moment you arrived in the humble neighborhood. You've actually become the second favorite almost instantly, given the uniqueness you've brought to the colorful cast as a human merely wearing an average-sized costume.

They've observed that your personality makes you relatable to young teens, attracting them to the show. Many of them got some chuckles out of your dry and semi-self aware humor (in that you'd joke about how Wally's missing his eyebrows and nose when everybody else has them). It was an immediate hit.

Even when you got pulled into some silly musical number with the rest of the gang, you just spoke in monotone and put lackluster energy into dancing when the camera panned over to you--much to the dismay of your "neighbors".

The viewers just couldn't get enough of you. They adored you.

And they can't stop watching.

You, on the other hand, weren't aware that you were so popular...and quite frankly, you didn't want to be. It terrified you.

So for a while, to protect your own sanity, you began attending less and less social events, not wanting to overwhelm yourself. You've declined invitations to Sally's and Barnaby's shows, which made you feel kinda bad..but you were just so fearful of everything at the time.

Were any of them aware of their circumstances, too?

You had no idea, and it would probably make you sound like a crazy person if you told them how you really felt.

The only other person to show any sort of "deviance" was...Wally himself.

You didn't know why, but you felt like he had something to do with the situation you're in. Especially given his odd response to you that evening and the fact that...he just apparently loved to stare so much, watching you just like the audience did.

It didn't help that whenever you talked to him or he tried approaching you, you got the chilling feeling that you were being perceived by the audience--as if somebody was holding a camera over your shoulder, wanting to capture every moment the "main character" spent with you.

You'd prefer to spend as little time in the spotlight as possible.

However, being anxious about this world didn't mean you weren't a bit mouthy towards other things you disliked. You were known for being blunt and sometimes a "realist", shrugging of whatever crocodile tears the others may give you just for the crime of being honest and true to yourself.

So yes...you'd always call out Wally if he was staring at you for a prolonged period of time, or if he tried persuading you to say hello to Home if you happened to pass by the sentient house.

Your response? Straight up "no thank you, it creeps me out and I don't like how its window-eye things are looking at me."

The audience may laugh, but it's the truth.

That building scares you.

Despite all of this, though...Wally didn't seem to bothered by it. He likened your sarcastic quips to Frank's, so that was never an issue with him. If anything, he was genuinely trying to help you feel right at home in the neighborhood, hoping to become a friend you could trust and rely on if you needed anything.

It'll just take you a bit more time to adjust, and that's alright!

Sure, maybe his stares were strange to you and Home was well...Home. He understood why those things might seem scary to a new neighbor.

But then again, that's how everybody else acted when he first met them, and now they were all good friends!

He's sure you'll fit right in and find true happiness here. So he made it his mission to befriend you without coming on too strongly, inviting you to quiet picnics and painting lessons, calling you on the phone, and even showing up at your doorstep with gifts.

He even made sure to tell his neighbors to give you space, though he was really hoping you'd stop being afraid of him the longer you spent around him alone.

But while you accepted his presents and showed up to his invites...you just couldn't let your guard down around him. You never looked happy or relaxed, and didn't stay long, usually cutting your time together short under the guise that you forgot to do something important and had to leave now.

Your latest excuse was that you forgot to "walk your fish" even though you owned no such pet. You were a terrible liar, but Wally believed you anyways.

He was a patient man, so he'll wait how ever long it took to befriend you.

...........

"Alright, Home..today I'm gonna gift [y/n] my finest work thus far! Do you think they'll like it?"

Pausing, Wally listened for the creaks of approval and squeaks of reassurances, smiling when he heard them, although Home noted something else.

"Haha..you're right. Silly me. It needs more time to dry..or else the paint will just smudge and make it a not-so-nice gift. Sorry, I'm just excited, is all.." He chuckled awkwardly.

After setting the canvas back on the easel, he wandered over to the window and peered outside, humming a small tune to himself as he rested his arms on the sill.

It took him all day and all night to paint the perfect picture of your favorite animal---which he learned about from an off-handed comment you made a few days ago. His memory was sharp, remembering all the details about the creature, and he believed you'll love what he created as a result!

Surely now you'll see that he's not all that bad. Otherwise he'd be lost on how to convince you.

However, he noticed a rather...surprising sight from across the street, one that even Home had to confirm was happening so he didn't think he was going crazy.

You were actually out and about, having a casual chat with Frank, asking how he got together with Eddie before bumping into said mailman on the sidewalk.

Wally couldn't make out what any of you three were discussing, but Eddie must have said something humorous, as it made Frank groan and hide his blushing face. And you just chuckled and shook your head, patting the latter's back sympathetically.

He felt his heart sink.

You were talking to the couple--joking around, smiling, and genuinely enjoying their company. As if you've known them all your life.

Yet anytime he's even near you in any capacity, he's met with frowns deeper than Frank's and constant excuses to get away from him. Like he was some kind of pest or scary monster.

He didn't understand what he was doing wrong.

Of course, he's happy you're getting along with some of the neighbors, no longer being so shut-in...but it hurt to know he's still stuck struggling, literally begging you to be his friend.

*creaaaak?*

"..no, Home. I'm not jealous. What gives you that idea?"

*...creeak.."

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Wally looked back at the easel, sighing. Part of him wanted to just throw the whole canvas out the window, but....he shook off the feeling, forcing a smile.

He wanted you to have it, even if you didn't like him that much.

So when he saw you finally parting ways with Eddie and Frank, he decided to head over to your house about an hour later, assuming you were gonna be there and needed to recharge from socializing.

He put on his best cardigan and made sure his hair was neat before heading out the door with the small canvas tucked under his arm, covered by a protective sheet. He wouldn't wanna spoil the surprise for you, after all..even if you anticipated it being yet another painting.

For some reason, the sky was grayer than usual today..meaning it's probably gonna rain on his parade.

But he didn't let that deter him.

After arriving to your house, he knocked three times, in a certain rhythm that you've distinctively recognized as him being at the door.

But he was surprised when you opened it right away. "Oh heya, Wally. What's up?"

"Ohh nothing much, neighbor." He chuckled. "May I..come in? I promise I won't stay long-"

"It's cool. It looks like it's gonna rain anyways. Wouldn't wanna ruin your "beautiful" hair now, huh?" With a coy smirk, you let him come inside the house, shutting the door behind you as you turned around to see what be brought you this time.

He looked shocked, almost, standing there like a fish out of water. You invited him in without hesitation...though he tried not getting his hopes up too high.

You're just trying to be polite. In a few minutes you're gonna kick him out for some silly reason.

Shifting your gaze away from his uncomfortable stare, you looked at the painting in his hands, tilting your head. "I guess that's for me.."

Nodding, Wally handed you the canvas, watching you remove the small sheet to see it was a painting of your favorite animal. Your eyes lit up, impressed by the amount of details that went into this one, before looking back up at him. "Wow, man..this is....awesome. How long did it take you?"

"Not very long!" He suddenly chirped, hands clasped together with excitement. "I just hope it fits nicely in your collection! A-Assuming....you...have one...that is..."

Bit by bit, his words began to fall flat with uncertainty, before he completely dropped the act, shoulders slumped.

Why did he bother trying anymore? What was the point?

You noticed his odd mood shift. "Wally? What's wrong?"

"..nothing, neighbor.." Sighing, he hung his head low, a cloud of doom and gloom manifesting over him as he shuffled towards the door. He felt like going back to Home and curling up in a corner somewhere. "I'll...see you later-"

"Wait."

"...hm?"

He stopped and looked over his shoulder, still feeling quite depressed but willing to listen to whatever you wanted to say.

You set the painting on a nearby table, approaching him with your heart constrained with guilt. "Look, Wally..I know you think I hate you or something, but...that's not true."

"It...isn't?" He blinked.

"I'm sorry if I gave you that impression. There's just been...a lot of my mind lately. Things I can't really talk about just yet..I-I don't know. It's hard to explain. But the point is...I really do wanna be your friend. I guess I'm just...a very "guarded" person if that makes sense."

Although Wally was staring at you yet again, you didn't break eye contact, wanting him to know you're being genuine here. "I don't open up easy, but I know you've...helped me a lot, and I appreciate that. I do keep your paintings and I do feel bad for being a jerk to you sometimes. So...think you can forgive me? I'll even allow this if you want."

When he saw you open your arms up to him, he was frozen for a few long moments, astonishment written all over his face.

He just...didn't know what to say. Not only did you actually like his company, but....

He was allowed to hug you??

"..c'mon, pal. My arms are kinda getting tired." You awkwardly smiled, although you blinked as he suddenly latched onto you, letting out a few sniffles.

He wanted to sob so badly, but knew that wouldn't be very "neighborly" of him.

Yet you heard how he sounded, and felt guilty for treating him as some bad guy...when really he didn't seem malicious at all. You wanted to believe he had good intentions.

Whether or not he also knew the truth behind this place...that didn't matter right now.

He just wanted to be your friend.

You'll never be happy if you kept being so afraid of him all the time. That wasn't any life to live, even if you're unsure of whether this was your only life or not.

But you let him hug you anyways, patting his back.

"Th-This is very nice of you, neighbor. I forgive you." He mumbled, cheek squished against your shoulder as he clung to you tightly, never wanting to let go-

"Thanks......okay, you can let go now."

"..o-oh! Right, sorry." Reluctantly, Wally let you go, rubbing his eyes before dusting off his cardigan, breathing a sigh of relief. "Whew! I'm glad we're on better terms now. But...if I may ask..what changed?"

"Ah, well..I was talking with Frank and Eddie earlier..and I asked them about you."

"Huh....?" He pointed to himself, raising an invisible eyebrow. "Me..?"

"Yeah. Since they're more chill than most of the people here, I feel like I can be myself around them." You explained. "Howdy and Julie are kinda too loud for me, so...yeah. Those guys pushed me to reach out to you and try to make this friendship work...instead of the other way around."

'So...that's what they were talking about..' He realized, though he beamed anyways, happy you took their advice.

"Well that's great! I think we'll become great friends, [y/n]!" Smiling, he offered his hand to you, and you shook it as a way of saying you're both willing to start over.

"I..think so, too, Wally." You smiled back, feeling this huge weight being lifted off your shoulders.

"So...do you wanna come visit Home when the weather clears?"

"...I'll pass. But I'll wave to 'em from afar if that's okay."

"It's fine by me, neighbor."

[junkdrawerfics]

First Vampire

that you know of

Previous

Series of Firsts - part 4

Summary: After that night of internet research, you can't get the thought of vampires out of your head. It takes a week, but you eventually gain the confidence to ask him about it. It's a shocking conversation to say the least.

Words: 1275

---

“If I ask you something, will you give me an honest answer?” 

Jasper glances at you, brows furrowing, “Of course I will.”

You hesitate, picking at a dead leaf by your shoe. The question has been stuck in your head all week, ever since the night you stumbled across that word. You’ve spent every day since trying to figure out how to ask Jasper about it. And honestly, you’ve come up with nothing. Not a single subtle way to do it.

So you’re here, in a very familiar spot. The place you first met him. It looks a little different, with the trees glowing red and orange among the ever green pines, and with no battered kitten this time. Just you and Jasper, tucked close together on that stump you found.

Another difference - last time you were here, you weren’t scared.

Now you are. 

So scared your hands are shaking. But not because of the possibility of your best friend being a vampire. That thought hasn’t scared you for a second, a fact you are desperately trying to ignore so you don’t feel crazier than you already do. 

No, what you’re really scared of is losing him. Even though you’ve only known him for a few months, you can’t imagine life without Jasper. The day you met, something shifted. In you. In the world. The thought of losing him makes something in your heart ache. 

“Darlin’? Everythin’ alright?”

His shoulder brushes yours, the warm drawl of his voice wrapping around you like a blanket. It brings you back from the mess in your head. His eyes are set on you, molten gold swirling with unbridled concern. Of course he’d worry. Because that’s just who he is. Sweeting, caring, absolutely amazing Jasper.

Vampire or not, you can’t lose him. You just can’t.

“Promise me something?” You request quietly, leaning into his shoulder.

The blond nods, leaning right back into you without a word.

“Promise me that we’ll stay friends no matter what.” Your voice shakes, like your hands, and you can’t bring yourself to look away from them.

Jasper’s face softens. He can feel how nervous you are, not that he needs his ability to tell. Gently, so gently, he brushes his fingers across your cheek, drawing your wide, doe-ish eyes up to his.

“I’ll be here for as long as you want me, darlin’,” he murmurs, cool thumb brushing over your heated cheek, “That’s a promise.” 

You let out a deep, stuttering breath, tension dripping from your shoulders. Hearing him say that settles every anxiety buzzing in your chest. You’ll be okay. Everything will be okay.

So you might as well get it over with, right?

“Are you a vampire?”

Jasper’s touch stills on your cheek. You glance between his eyes, catching the faintest flicker of surprise before he schools his expression into something practiced, calm. Biting your cheek, you have to hold tight to the promise he just made to keep your worries from flooding back.

When Jasper does speak, his voice is calm, quiet, “Would that scare you?”

He watches you carefully, eyes slightly narrowed, almost…uncertain? You’ve never seen Jasper uncertain. He’s always been so confident, teasingly cocky at times. Seeing him like this sparks something strangely protective in your chest.

“No,” you answer without hesitation. You could never be scared of him.

Jasper blinks, another spark of shock flickering across his face. That’s not the answer he expected. He wasn’t sure what to expect. He knew it would come to this, you were too curious for your own good, but Alice wouldn’t tell him what would happen, wouldn’t even give him a hint to how you’d react.

And out of all the possibilities, this is not the one he imagined happening. You, sitting here, looking up at him with determination gleaming in your eyes. Not an ounce of fear, just something desperately hopeful. Something like love.

For a moment he almost thinks his heart starts again.

“You really are something’, aren’t you darlin’?” He breathes, features melting into a smile as he shakes his head. “I don’t know why I expected anythin’ different”

Your brows shoot up and so does your voice, “So it’s true?”

The blond nods, all too amused at how taken aback you look You stare at him owlishly, disbelief swirling with relief, which just makes you that much odder. What a strange human, he thinks fondly, with maybe the poorest survival instincts since Bella.

“So, wait, how- So you’re a vampire. Vampires are real. Are all of you- is your whole family?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And Bella?”

“She knows,” he admits, and you look even more boggled, “Though, I’d like to point out I kept our secret longer than Edward.”

You snort, “How long did he last?”

“Few weeks at best.” He smirks. It’s something he’ll hold over his brother for all eternity.

“Wow.”

You can barely process it. Even though it’s what you suspected, a part of you never thought it could be true. But you’re not crazy. And Jasper is a vampire. They’re all vampires. Your pulse jumps. Does that mean-?

“We don’t drink from humans,” Jasper says, as if reading your thoughts, “My family, we’re…different from others of our kind. We like to call ourselves vegetarians.”

You tilt your head. “Vegetarians?”

“We only drink from animals,” he explains with a humorless chuckle.

Something settles in your chest. You never thought Jasper would hurt someone, you never thought any of the Cullens could, but what are you supposed to think when faced with the reality that vampires exist? It’s a whole different world, one you thought only existed in books, and now you’re living in the middle of it.

“This is insane,” you sigh, slumping into his side, head resting against his shoulder.

Jasper stiffens immediately, but when you don’t move, when you still show no signs of fear, he slowly wraps his arm around your waist, drawing you closer. Warmth spreads across your cheeks.

“You’re takin’ it better than most. Makes me worry,” he hums, squeezing your side teasingly, “You sure you didn’t bump your head, sweetheart?”

The touch sends all your thoughts jumbling, the heat spreading down your neck, “I know it sounds crazy. I’m like freaking out inside, but also not, and I just- I don’t know. You’re my best friend and I love you, and I don’t want things to change, so-”

You freeze. 

You said that. Out loud. To Jasper.

It almost feels like summer with how your whole body flushes. Slowly, you drag your eyes up to his face, to see if he caught what you said, and if the wolfish smirk tugging at the corner of his lips tells you anything, he definitely did.

“If that’s the case,” Jasper drawls, voice teasing as he draws you closer, “I can finally ask you on a proper date.”

“What?” The word comes out as a squeak.

Your brain is short circuiting. Like, completely shut down. Forget the vampire thing. Jasper, your Jasper, the sweetest, most charismatic man you know, wants to take you on a date?

“Now that you know our secret, I’d like to take you on a proper date,” he repeats, and it’s just as unbelievable the second time. “I’d like to pick you up, take you to a nice dinner, and kiss you at the door when I drop you off.”

You inhale sharply, “Yes.”

“Yes?” 

“Yes.”

And just like that, the same day you learn about the Cullens being vampires, you get asked out on your first date with Jasper Hale. A date you immediately go home to get ready for.

You don’t know which part is crazier.

---

Next

Not sure about this one, but I thought it was fun. I hope you guys enjoyed it!

[french-unknown]

Hiii!!!

Can you please write something about a reader who wants to get self-improved?

What I am trying to say is, the reader is kinda of lazy and all they do is sleep, eat, and read. Neglecting studies and being unproductive.

But they want to change. They tried so many times, but they became their previous self again after 2 or 3 days.

Can you please write something like Law, Shanks, Mihawk, and Ace to help them to become their best self?

Like you know motivational and inspiring thing...

I don't know if you can understand this. English is not my mother language. So it's so hard to explain. Sorry about that.

Thank you so much for writing.

With lots of love...❤️❤️❤️

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐏 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅-𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐕𝐄

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒: law, shanks, mihawk, ace 𝐂/𝐖: fluff 𝐀/𝐍: Hi! Thank you very much for appreciating what I wrote and don't worry about your request, I understood. I hope you will like it and have a nice day! (｡◝‿◜｡) 𝐖/𝐂: 1.2k +

| m a s t e r l i s t |

𝐋𝐀𝐖

✧ You had been locked in your room for several weeks and you didn't want to come out. You didn't want to see people. You didn't want to listen to them. You didn't want to talk to them.

✧ You just wanted to spend your days alone in your blankets reading quietly with Law visiting in the evening to sleep.

✧ Everyone outside, even your friends, bored you: their conversations didn't interest you and their reactions annoyed you. Besides, you didn't see what you could talk to them about and, even when you tried, you were cut off. this invisibilization irritated you so much that you ended up not saying a word, plunging yourself even deeper into your boredom, and no longer coming.

✧ You had tried several times to come back to them but your interactions turned on you more and more until the arrival of the Straw Hats who had finished isolating you for good.

Their captain who shouted everywhere and ruined your peace. Their swordsman who turned on his heel in the middle of your sentence when you tried to talk to him. Or their navigator who had cut you off to call out to Shachi who was passing behind you with his winnings from his bets with the crew.

✧ You hadn't left your room since.

✧ Law didn't see your isolation in a good light so, given that you were only reading and your reading stock was dwindling, he mentioned the very well-stocked library of the Straw Hats. Innocently, of course.

✧ He arranged for the Straw Hats to start a party before you could get out. Not wanting to get stuck in the hubbub on your way back to your room, you decided to stay reading in the Sunny Library until the crowd dispersed. Law sent Robin to the library to read her book.

✧ You came home the next morning to talk to Law about the archaeologist who was nice and whose invitation you thought you would accept to meet up to read together. He just calmy replied: “Cool” even though he was very satisfied inside to see you regaining confidence in socialization.

𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐊𝐒

✧ You didn't have the motivation to do anything to advance your goals. You always pushed everything aside with an "I'll do it later" to continue reading until you found yourself in the evening and said to yourself "It's too late to start, I'll do it tomorrow".

✧ It was like this every day.

✧ One morning, Shanks came into your room humming after you went back. He approached you under your suspicious gaze and took your book from your hands before going to the window and casually throwing your book into the water over his shoulder.

You could have ripped him alive just for that.

✧ However, he took out an old crumpled sheet of paper from his pocket with a quill already inked on it and wrote your objective in large letters at the top of the page. Then he spent the rest of the morning with you on the bed figuring out all the steps to take before reaching your goal. He embellished the page with little drawings here and there to make it more “cool”.

✧ He called himself "the Emperor of the to-do list" throughout.

✧ The next day, you did one of the tasks on the list because it didn't take much time / effort and you could do it from your bed. You simply checked it off and, when Shanks came back in the evening, you showed him.

✧ Every time you checked a box, he showered you with a shower of congratulations as well as special drinking parties to celebrate your accomplishment.

✧ The whole crew also ended up getting involved and they all encouraged you in their own way.

𝐌𝐈𝐇𝐀𝐖𝐊

✧ He was genuinely starting to worry about you: you didn't want to go out anymore and it had been weeks since you had seen the light of day.

No matter what he does, you always return to your bed after stocking up on food in the middle of the night in the castle kitchen. You stay all day under your covers. You would refuse his invitations every time he offered to accompany him outside the castle or during his missions outside Kuraigana. You always justified that you were more comfortable in your bed and that you didn't see the point in going out.

✧ He ironically thought that he was the one called a vampire.

✧ Finally, he got fed up. He waited for you in the kitchen during the night and started talking to you for a long time. You find his behavior quite strange but you keep talking, hoping that he will make fewer remarks to you later about the fact that you always stay locked in your bedroom.

However, when you opened the door to your room to finally snuggle into your soft pillows and blankets, you noticed that your bed was gone. Your bed was missing. You tried all the rooms in the castle but all the beds had disappeared. As well as all the pillows and blankets. There were none left in the entire castle.

✧ He then guided you towards Hitsugibune where his usual seat had been replaced by your blankets and pillows. You were shocked while he gave you the choice between staying on the island and sleeping on the cold stone floor or boarding with him and sleeping in comfortable bedding.

After toying with the idea of sleeping on the cold castle floor just to annoy him, you finally agree to go on his boat.

✧ After a few weeks of traveling, you realize that getting out of bed was the best solution because your days were no longer an endless blur. They no longer paraded at full speed without your having the slightest memory of them.

𝐀𝐂𝐄

✧ You wanted to start sport but you couldn't stay regular.

✧ You could tell yourself all the benefits it would give you (post-session well-being with endorphins, being more active in everyday life, more energy etc.) but you couldn't do it. Even motivational phrases like “the hardest part is to begin!” only made you feel even more depressed when you found yourself hopelessly in sportswear in your bed.

✧ You motivated yourself to do a week then you missed a session because you had aches. And another because you were tired. Then another one because you were lazy and, at rhis point, it wouldn't make a difference.

And you always ended up stopping.

✧ But Ace wanted to help you so he offered to accompany him on his next mission. You never refused to spend more time with him so you agreed.

✧ However, this trip as a couple was very different from the previous ones where you made all your trips at sea with his striker and those on land with the island's transport.

✧ This time, you did everything by yourself.

You paddled on the Grand Line while Ace helped you while telling you about his fights with Sea Kings. You hiked from one town to another while arguing with your idiot lover who had forgotten to take money for transportation. You climbed mountains hand in hand with him as you chatted happily.

✧ Finally, you got a taste for these privileged private moments with your boyfriend. They provided you with enough physical exercises to satisfy you without constraining you and you no longer felt the duty to do these sessions alone.

Congratulations, you found my 3rd Easter Egg Here a ʚ 𝐜𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐞 𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐫 ɞ as a token of my admiration

𝐉𝐎𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐘 𝐔𝐏𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @iheartamora @bontensh0e @opchara @lys-ada @xomingyu @dozcan123 @kai-wifey

[newtthetranswriter]

hELLO!!! ANNYEONGHASE- ok i'll stop

so may i ask for some megumi fushiguro crumbs??? fluff pleaseeee and i was thinking about a scenario where megumi tries to confess to reader his feelings... bUT every time he wants to he gets interrupted!! and when he finally manages to catch reader and say what he feels, reader takes out an uno reverse card from their pocket with a stupid smile... you can include gojo and other students as the wing people of megs but imma leave it to you!!!! thank you in advance, take the time you need and dont stress about it!!!! love u and have a nice rest after work 💞💞

Word count: 827

Paring: Megumi Fushiguro x reader

A/n: Hey Ness, thank you for requesting. Honestly I think this is my first time writing for Megumi so I hope you enjoy it. Also tried a different pov for this one so let me know how you like it. Have a good day or night, and remember to Hydrate or diedrate. REQUESTS ARE OPEN

    He had been trying to tell you for weeks. And before that Itadori had spent over a month trying to get him to admit his feelings to himself. At this point Megumi was a wreck to put it simply. He tried to act like it wasn’t affecting him, but it was starting to feel like the whole world was against him.

     Megumi had approached you during dinner two weeks ago, having come up with the perfect plan. Unfortunately a certain cursed corpse messed everything up. Here's how it went.

     “Hey Y/n, can we talk for a minute?” He asked approaching the table you were sitting at. Smiling up at him you nodded, getting up to follow him out of the room. Once out of the crowded dining hall he began to speak again. “So, I’ve been meaning to tell-” Before could finish his sentence, the door burst open again.

     “You guys have to come see this, Itadori and Inumaki are competing to see who can fit the most rice balls in their mouth at once.” Panda said in excitement, dragging the both of you back inside.

     While the others were busy watching the two be idiots, you leaned over to Megumi. “Hey, what is it you wanted to talk about?” You asked in a hushed voice trying not to draw attention, silently hoping he was going to confess.

     He paused for a moment, then turned away. “It was nothing.” He said getting up and leaving you feeling disappointed.

    The next time he tried to confess was on one of the days off you get as Jujutsu sorcerers. Megumi was sure no one would interrupt him this time. And he had made Itadori promise to keep everyone busy and away from your dorm so he could tell you. Itadori being the good wing man he is, agreed and did his best. Unfortunately no one could predict what happened that afternoon.

    You two had been relaxing in your dorm like you do on every day off, just watching tv and chatting. He figured this was as good a time as any. So he went for it. “Y/n can I tell you something important?”

     Sitting up startled but curious, you responded. “Of course Megs, you can tell me anything.”

     Not thinking he would get this far he started. “Well, we’ve been friends for a while now and I’ve been thinking about this a lot.” He paused for only a second to collect his thoughts when the door burst open revealing the bane of Megumi’s existence.

     “Sorry to interrupt but I thought you would all like to know that Okkotsu is back from his overseas mission.” The obnoxious white haired man said.

     Upon hearing of the return of one of your closest friends, you quickly jumped off your bed running out of the room. Completely forgetting the conversation you were having with Megumi. Leaving the boy to slump back into the bed.

      Megumi had enough, he was going to try and tell you one last time and if something got in the way, he would accept that fate had other plans and give up. So he cornered you one morning before training started. He was determined for this to go well. He wasn’t going to beat around the bush either, he was going to be straight forward and rip off the bandaid.

      “Y/n I’ve liked you for a long time, and not just in the oh you’re cool kinda way. I want to spend all my free time with you and protect you no matter what.” He didn’t even pause to get a reaction, he just kept going. “I’ve been trying to tell you for weeks, but something always came up. But this is the last time I’m trying this, so I need you to know that I love you.” Megumi didn’t even register all the words that came out of his mouth.

      You stood frozen for a moment. This was a dream come true Megumi Fushiguro just told you he loved you and your mind was buzzing. After getting over the initial shock, you reached in your pocket confusing the dark haired boy in front of you. With the biggest smile he had ever seen you handed him a green Uno reverse card. 

       “What the hell is this supposed to mean?” It was his turn to be shocked.

       Instead of giving him a verbal response right away, you leaned over and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “It means, I love you too. Now as much as I would love to skip training to go on a date, we wouldn’t hear the end of it from Gojo, so we should get going.” You said before walking towards the training field. Megumi was left frozen for a minute, not believing that just happened. Getting over his shock he realized you were right, so he carefully placed the uno card in his pocket and headed outside to join you.

[superlarva]

Fives, Tup, and Dogma in a fort!

Soooo sorry about last week, I've been ridiculously busy, but we're back to my usual weekly Sunday updates of Raising Dominoes for the foreseeable future!

Anyways, here is Chapter 8 - Furniture and Forts. It was mostly just an excuse to draw the boys in a blanket fort :)

Prologue: 00 Previous chapter: 07 Next chapter: 09

Summary: Tup and Dogma help Fives set up his new room before a power outage frightens them.

CW: Implied/referenced child abuse, panic attacks, power outages

Chapter 8 - Furniture and Forts

Fives had not been able to fall back asleep after his nightmare, so after Cody left they spent the rest of the morning playing with the toys that Rex had bought the day before. At first Fives seemed to have trouble with the concept of playing. He would just sit in front of the toys staring at them blankly until Rex told him to do something specific with them, at which point he would comply, but after a while he seemed to get the gist of it. He began to make up little scenarios with the action figures and would have them battle each other.

It did not sit well with Rex that fighting seemed to be the only thing his son knew well enough to recreate in play, but Fives did seem to be having fun, so he tried not to intervene. Well, he might have been trying to coax Fives into helping him build a racetrack out of Legos for the matchbox cars, but the boy was too busy bashing the small plastic soldiers together and making blaster noises to notice.

By early afternoon Fives seemed to be running out of energy. The workers also arrived to deliver the boys’ furniture, so Rex turned the TV on to a random cartoon channel and let Fives curl up on the couch and watch it while he helped the guys set up the room.

When they were done the workers left and Rex found Fives still watching the show. He had hoped the boy would have fallen asleep, but he supposed it had probably been a little loud for that.

“Hey, buddy,” Rex sank down on the couch next to Fives.

Fives quickly turned his attention to Rex, television forgotten, “Are they done? Can I see?”

Rex chuckled, “Yep.”

Fives grinned and jumped up. He ran to his new room and stopped in the doorway. Rex joined him.

The furniture was all from the same set, so every piece had the same dark stained wood. It was a little weird to see the room with just furniture and no decorations, but Fives did not seem to mind. The kid was practically trembling with excitement.

Each side of the room had a bed with a bare mattress sitting in the far corner, and a nightstand, desk, dresser, and bookshelf up against the wall. Fives looked up at Rex, “This is really all just for me and Echo?”

“This is your room, yeah.”

“Wow.”

Rex grinned and pushed Fives lightly into the room, “Go on. Pick which side you want.”

Fives looked around the room and took a tentative step forward before looking back to Rex uncertainly.

“It’s okay,” Rex tried to reassure, “Just pick which bed you want to sleep in.”

Fives looked like he was making the hardest decision of his life before stepping over to the bed on the left and turning back to Rex, “This one?”

“Perfect.”

Fives beamed, “Can we-”

He was cut off by the sound of muffled voices:

“No, you have to knock louder, Tup. He’s not gonna hear that.”

The second voice was too soft to hear through the walls, but a loud knock rang through the apartment.

Fives looked up at Rex, his brows drawn together, and a tight frown tugged down the corners of his lips.

“It’s alright, those are my friends,” Rex said, flicking on the light in Fives’s room and motioning for the boy to follow him as he made his way down the hallway towards the door, turning on all the lights as he went. “You remember Hardcase?”

“Y-yeah,” Fives answered.

“These are his little cousins Dogma and Tup. They’re just a bit older than you.”

Fives nodded, but hesitated as they reached the entryway, “Why’d you turn on all the lights?”

“Oh, uh, they don’t like the dark,” Rex said softly, opening the door before Fives could ask why not.

They were met with a scowling preteen with close cropped hair and a boy with longer wavy hair that could have been the other’s twin if he was not a few years younger standing in front of a large box.

It took Rex a second to register, but when he did he grinned, “Thanks. This is your guys’ old stuff?”

The boys nodded.

Rex pulled the container into his apartment, “Awesome. This is great.”

Fives peered out from behind Rex and gave the older boys a small wave. Tup offered a shy smile and inched a bit closer to Dogma, who wrapped his arm around his brother and attempted a smile of his own, but it did not quite reach his eyes.

Dogma craned his neck to see into the apartment, “What were all those people doing?”

“Setting up Fives and Echo’s new room,” Rex said, ruffling Fives’s hair.

Tup’s eyebrows raised in interest. Rex new the look well and smiled at the boy, “If it’s okay with Fives, you guys can check it out. It’s not finished or anything though.”

Tup and Dogma exchanged a glance before looking to Fives.

“It’s okay,” Fives said, shifting a little behind Rex even as the words left his mouth.

Tup smiled and followed Dogma as he made his way into the apartment.

Dogma puffed out his chest and turned to address Fives, “My name is Dogma, I’m twelve years old and 3 months. This is my brother Tup. He’s ten.”

Fives’s large brown eyes darted between the boys, “I’m Fives.”

Dogma and Tup stayed to help unpack and decorate the bedroom. Dogma was helping Rex make the beds and the younger boys were putting Tup’s hand-me-downs in the dresser. Fives pulled out a shirt and passed it to Tup, “Echo.”

Tup hesitated, “Are you sure? You’re giving way more clothes to Echo than to yourself.” Fives shrugged, “That shirt is red. Echo likes red.”

Rex looked over to the dresser and saw that Echo’s was full and Fives’s practically empty, “Tup’s right, Fives. You need clothes to wear too. Why don’t you start putting more things in your dresser.”

Fives’s eyebrows pushed together, and he looked down into the box of clothes, “But- but what if Echo wants them?”

Rex shrugged, “When Echo gets home you guys can trade if you want, but for now you need to give yourself more clothes.”

Fives still looked a little confused and when Tup moved to place the red shirt in his dresser rather than Echo’s, he shook his head.

Tup froze, looking from Fives to the dresser to Rex, who was busy tucking in sheets. Dogma had been listening to the exchange while making Fives’s bed and looked up at the silence. He caught on quick and scowled at Fives, “Rex said-”

“But Echo would really like that shirt!” Fives interrupted, voice hitting a whiney pitch.

Dogma’s scowl deepened and Tup looked like he would rather be anywhere than caught in this crossfire.

Rex looked over and was about to say something, but Fives beat him to it, “I-I’ll take the rest of them, just- just Echo would really like that one.”

“But-” Dogma started, confusion replacing his scowl.

“It’s fine,” Rex interjected, he had heard the panic in Fives’s voice, and he did not want to make it any worse.

Dogma opened his mouth to say something.

“It’s fine, Dogma,” Rex repeated with a bit more force.

Dogma mumbled out a quiet apology and turned back to Fives’s bed, his ears turning red.

“Tup, why don’t you put that one in Echo’s drawer,” Rex nodded to the red tee still clutched in Tup’s hand. The boy obliged and Rex continued, “But the rest go to Fives, okay?”

Fives nodded seriously.

With four sets of helping hands, they were able to finish setting up the room fairly quickly. After learning that Jesse was out taking Hardcase to his drum lesson and Kix had picked up an extra shift at the hospital (which Rex could not help but feel responsible for), Rex insisted on Dogma and Tup staying for dinner. The boys did not complain.

While they were eating Dogma suddenly pointed out the window, “Hey, it’s snowing!”

“Really?” Tup jumped up and ran to the window.

Fives joined Tup, “Whoa, it’s so fluffy.”

Dogma’s eyes darted between his plate and the window, clearly debating something. Rex felt an odd pang in his chest at how hard this decision seemed to be for the kid. He smiled gently, “You can go take a closer look.”

Dogma’s eyes snapped to his, “But we’re eating?”

“The food will still be here after you take a look.”

“Come on, Dogma!” Tup exclaimed, unable to hide his excitement.

Dogma slowly and a little rigidly got up from the table and made his way over to his brother, glancing back uncertainly at Rex every few feet.

Rex nodded encouragingly. He had known Dogma and Tup ever since Kix had taken them in six years ago. The boys had been scared and nervous and so afraid of the dark that they refused to sleep until they all but collapsed. As the years went on, they acclimated to their new environment as well as one could expect, but Tup was still a shy bundle of worry and Dogma was still overly compliant to what he believed the “rules” were. And they were both still scared of the dark.

“It’s windy,” Fives noted.

“Really windy,” Dogma breathed, sounding lost in thought.

Tup turned from the window to look at Rex, his face scrunched up with worry, “Do you think the power’s gonna go out?”

Rex shook his head, “Probably not.”

Tup turned back to the window and Rex grimaced; he could hear the wind howling outside.

The boys had taken to playing in the twins’ room after dinner while Rex cleaned up. From what he could hear in the kitchen, it sounded like Dogma was teaching Fives some sort of card game. Rex smiled; he was glad they were getting along.

As soon as he finished scrubbing the last dish, the lights flickered in the apartment. Rex dropped the plate back into the sink and ran to the bedroom.

Dogma sat cross legged on the floor in front of a game of palace, back stiff as a board, eyes wide and focused on a space just in front of Rex. Tup had thrown himself over his older brother and was clinging to him, eyes just as wide and filled with terror.

Fives’s back was to Rex, and he turned, a frown tugging down the corners of his lips, “What-”

Just then the lights went out and they were plunged into darkness.

Rex moved quickly, scooping up Tup and pulling him into his lap, just as he had seen Kix do a million times before. The boy was already hyperventilating, his small chest rising and falling quickly with each shallow, ragged breath. Rex pulled his hand through Tup’s wavy hair, and exaggerated his breathing in the hopes that Tup would feel it and it would help him regulate his own.

“You’re safe, Tup. It’s me, Rex. You’re in my apartment.”

Tup clung to Rex a little tighter, but his breathing remained quick and shallow.

Rex turned to Fives, whose outline he could see in the dim light from the window, “Fives, there’s a flashlight on my nightstand in my room. Do you think you could get it for me?”

Fives made an affirmative noise and scurried into the darkness.

“How are you doing, Dogma?” Rex asked, turning his attention to the older boy for a moment.

Dogma did not respond, so Rex pulled him in close to his side, “I got you, you’re safe.” Dogma rested his head against Rex’s shoulder and trembled, speaking softly, “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to.”

Rex felt hot tears seeping into his shirt and could not help but feel like he was in way over his head. He had no idea what Dogma was apologizing for, but he supposed that did not matter.

“I know,” Rex said gently, even though did not, “It’s alright.”

Fives reappeared with the flashlight in hand and passed it to Rex. Rex switched it on immediately and it flickered to life, bathing the room in a golden light. He felt Dogma relax a bit beside him and gave the sniffling boy a quick squeeze before turning his attention back to Tup.

Tup was still in the throws of a panic attack and clung to Rex with a force and determination he did not know the ten-year-old had. Rex gently pried one of Tup’s hand off him and pressed the flashlight into it, “Here, have the light.”

Tup clutched the flashlight and slumped against Rex, his breaths erratic as he struggled to calm down.

“Breath with me, Tup. In,” Rex took a deep breath in before letting it out slowly, “Out.”

Rex kept inhaling and exhaling with Tup and eventually got the boy to slow his breathing. All the fight left Tup’s body and he slumped weakly against Rex.

“You want me to call Kix?” Rex asked gently.

Tup shook his head.

“Jesse?”

“No.”

“It wouldn’t be a bother.”

“No. I’m- I’m okay now,” Tup said shakily.

Rex frowned, Tup was far from okay, “You’ll stay here until Kix or Jesse get home.”

Tup nodded against him.

“Um, excuse me, sir?” Fives pipped up from the doorway of his bedroom where he had watched the scene unfold.

“Yes, little soldier?” Rex said the joking nickname coming automatically.

“Can we build a fort?”

“Like a blanket fort?” Rex asked, a little surprised Fives even knew what that was.

Fives nodded, “When we were scared like this, we would hide in a fort.”

“Yeah,” Rex said slowly, wondering how many times the twins had been “scared like this.”

Fives grinned and turned to Dogma, “Dogma, there are extra blankets in the closet in the hallway. We need three.”

The preteen sniffled and wiped his face, but got up and swiftly made his way out of the room, following the orders like his life depended on it.

Once Dogma had his mission, Fives sat down next to Tup—who was curled up in Rex’s lap and did not seem like he planned on leaving anytime soon—and explained his architectural vision for the fort. The plan distracted Tup from the power outage and Rex had to admit that there was no way he could have handled the situation better than his seven-year-old son currently was.

Dogma returned from the dimly lit hallway quickly and handed the blankets over to Fives.

The construction of the fort was left mostly to Fives and Dogma, but Tup did seem to be taking an interest in it. Rex nudged the boy in his lap as the other two finished up the fort and began crawling around in it, “Want to play with Dogma and Fives?”

Tup hesitated, “Can I keep the flashlight?”

“Of course,” Rex nodded, giving the kid a gentle push towards the others.

Tup crawled over to join his brother and Fives, who were now talking enthusiastically about “defense systems” they could put in place to fortify their creation.

Rex could have sworn he even saw Dogma smiling.

@marierg @stressed-cherry @ffdemon @renton6echo @bambambunny @tearfulsolace @rndmpeep @brokenphoenix99 @nerdy-valkyrie @xylionet @tazmbc1 @eyayah123 @the-bad-batch-baroness @sarcastic-nebula @ihaventpickedausername @sexysmeagolshitposting @emma-1409

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Ok but what would it be like for bruce and shopgirl when valentine's day arrived?¿

Previous Part | Masterlist | Next Part

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Reader

Length: 2.9K

Warnings: Mostly fluff; light angst; implied sexytimes; Alexa, play Pillowtalk

It's the first Valentine date you’ve ever gotten on a plane for. 

Bruce had been guarded about telling you, but his plans for the two of you just happened to intersect with something that he needed to handle outside of Gotham’s jurisdiction. You try not to think too hard about it. Whatever Bruce was getting up to, he got up to before you even got to Gran Canaria. Since you’ve arrived, the two of you have spent every moment together in a lux, rented villa. Your nerves from the past couple of weeks are steadily dropping away, and Bruce has been pretty well-rested. He’s more relaxed, more open than you’ve seen him before. 

You can’t help but wonder if he would’ve been as relaxed if you hadn’t found out about what he gets up to at night. You glance over at him now, lips pulling up with a smile when you find him completely asleep on the pool chair beside yours. His mouth is parted in his sleep; his sunglasses are a touch askew. You glance back, then lower the book you were reading to your seat. You stand and take hold of a patio umbrella, tugging it closer to the chairs, shading Bruce’s body. Then you settle back down, taking up your book. You hesitate before you glance up. The shade is covering the both of you, and you still want to get some sun. 

You swing your legs off of the chair, tip-toeing over to the pool and sitting down on the edge, sliding your legs into the cool water. You smile, wiggling your toes and taking your book up again. 

You’re not going to lie—taking nearly a week off from the store had been sort of risky. To be honest, you’re not completely certain your job will be there when you get back. Your manager had made you aware of the fact that she’d be bringing someone in to temp in your place, and if it went well, their performance would be weighed and measured against yours. Well, she's been looking for a way to get rid of you since you disappeared in the middle of the day to grab lunch with Bruce. You wouldn’t be surprised if you had to job hunt when you get home.

You sigh softly as your mind buzzes with the possibility, setting your book aside and peering out over the infinity pool, swinging your legs beneath the water. You glance back, doing a double take as you see Bruce rousing, adjusting his sunglasses on the bridge of his nose. You smile as he pushes himself to stand, walking over to you. 

“Did you have a nice nap?” You ask. 

Bruce yawns, then grunts. He carefully nudges your book back from the edge of the pool before sitting down beside you. 

“Water’s cold,” He mumbles sleepily. 

“That’s sort of the point, babe.” 

“Shade was cold, too. I don’t remember that umbrella being there.” 

“I moved it. I wasn’t sure how long you’d be asleep and I didn’t want you to wake up looking like a lobster.” 

“How kind of you.” 

“Though the sunburn-pink hue would’ve been festively appropriate.” 

Bruce smiles, leaning in and pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder. You tip your head against his, closing your eyes for a moment. 

“You get any rest?” He murmurs. 

“Just read for a while.”

“You should’ve napped. You won’t been getting much sleep for a couple of days,” He teases before nipping your shoulder. You smile, wriggling and slapping his thigh. Bruce chuckles, curling his arm around your middle and drawing you closer to his side. 

“You want something to drink?” He asks. You consider for a moment before you shrug.

“Sure.” 

“Champagne?” 

“Mhm.” 

“Alright.” 

You watch, brows raising, as Bruce pushes himself back, standing. You figured he’d just call out to Alfred, who hasn’t been too far from the two of you since you arrived, but Bruce is heading for the villa.

You sigh again, leaning back on your hands. Things between you and Bruce have been a little…Stilted since you learned the truth about his nightly activities. Some things have been a little easier. You don’t question every move that Bruce makes, any off-handed comment or sudden splotch of bruising on his body. But where you used to spend most nights wondering what he was up to, you now spend most nights wondering if he’s even going to make it home. You keep your eyes peeled for any mentions of Batman in the news and in newspapers; you’re tracking 'Batman', 'Caped Crusader', and 'Bruce Wayne Batman' on several social media sites. 

You do wonder if Bruce had planned to take you on a trip before you found out, or if it’s something that he wound up doing because he feels he owes something to you for his secrecy, his split attentions. You wonder if, during this vacation, his mind is really with you, or if it’s with the people of Gotham, the people that he may be neglecting by being here. Your stomach squirms with discomfort, the idea that Bruce may regret taking the time to be with you. You wiggle your toes beneath the water, trying to dispel the feeling with subtle movement. You’re so distracted that you don’t notice the shadow falling over you, or the glass being held out to you. 

“Here.” 

The lean of the word tells you that Bruce said it at least twice before he caught your attention. Your head snaps up, a smile slapped on your face as you take the champagne flute. 

“Thanks,” You reach up, taking it from him and raising it for a sip as Bruce sits back down beside you. 

“You okay?” He asks. 

“Yeah! Yeah, I zoned. Sorry.”

Bruce nods, gaze sweeping your face curiously. You lower your head a touch, trailing your finger over the glass. 

“So,” You clear your throat, “Any plans for the rest of the day?” 

“I thought we could go do some shopping, maybe stay in for dinner.” 

“Sounds good,” You nod. “You making Alfred cook?” 

“No,” Bruce chuckles. “He’s got the night off.” 

“Mm…Catered?” 

“I’ve got it all planned, don’t you worry about that.” 

--  

“He cooks,” You gasp, resting your hand over your heart in shock. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Bruce mutters, but you can see the smile creeping on his lips. 

“Do you want my help?” 

“No.” 

“Can I help?” 

“Nope.” 

“Why not?” 

“Would you just relax?” Bruce chuckles, glancing away from the stove to meet your eye. “Have a drink, turn on some music, something.” 

You pout, reaching out and snagging your champagne flute. You consider him for a moment before you walk over to him, cuddling against his back as he often down cook. You smile as he lowers his hand to rest over yours, giving it a gentle squeeze before letting go. 

“It smells good,” You murmur. 

“Tastes even better.” 

--  

“You were right.” 

“Oh?” 

“Mm. It was delicious,” You practically purr, curling your arm around Bruce’s middle. He smiles, turning his head and nuzzling against your forehead before pressing a kiss there. The two of you have curled up on the large, plush couch after dinner and dessert. Ella Fitzgerald croons sweetly over the speaker system. You’re full, and comfortable, and happy. You feel like the center of Bruce’s world. His arm is curled around you, keeping you close as his fingers skate along the fabric of the dress that you’d bought for the occasion. 

“Thank you for this,” You add softly, tipping your chin up. 

“Thank you for the book,” He counters, looking down at you. You nod, glancing toward where it sits on the table. It was one that he’d mentioned to you about a month ago (on extradition—you’ve tried not to think about why he might want it). 

“Glad you like it.”

Bruce reaches down, stroking his knuckles along your jaw. You smile, tipping your cheek into the touch and letting your eyes fall closed. 

“C’mon,” Bruce urges. You frown as he draws away, pushing himself off of the couch. 

“What?” 

“Come here,” He holds his hand out to you. You hesitate before you take hold of it, giggling as he tugs you close, wrapping his arm around your waist. He begins to sway the two of you gently to the music, his gaze sweeping your face before his eyes hold steadily on yours. You rest your hand on his shoulder and look at him in kind, unable to help the smile that grows on your lips. Just a little while ago, looking at someone and being looked at like this would intimidate you. Now, you just feel seen and cared for, and special. 

You lift your hand from Bruce’s shoulder, cupping his cheek gently. Bruce pushes his cheek into the touch before he turns his head, brushing his lips across your palm. His hand smooths down your back, drawing you impossibly closer as he rests his forehead against yours. You let your eyes slip closed, allowing yourself to just sway, and feel the warmth of Bruce’s body. You smile at the brush of Bruce’s nose brushing against yours, followed by the sweet press of his lips. You tip your chin up into the kiss, chasing his affection. Your hand slides along his cheek, slipping up into his hair and winding around the strands. The sound of his groan buzzes against your lips. You part them, shivering as Bruce’s tongue skates tenderly along yours. 

The two of you still in your swaying, falling out of time with the music and into sync with one another. Bruce’s hand smooths up your back, coming to rest on your nape as he turns your head as he likes. You let him guide, yielding to his squeezes and shifts. You shiver as he takes a few steps back toward the bedroom, his fingers lowering to tap on the zipper of your dress questioningly. 

--  

You can imagine the trail of clothing that Alfred will spot when he returns to the villa. You can only hope that he doesn’t trip over your bra, wherever that landed. You smile as Bruce’s sated body shifts against yours, as he presses a sweet kiss to your neck. You slide your feet up to brace on the bed, cradling his hips with your knees and curling your arms around his shoulders. You shiver as he brushes against your still slick, aching core. 

“I’m gonna need a few minutes before I’m ready to go again,” He warns.

“Just a few?” You tease.

“Are you callin’ me old?” 

“Making sure I don’t wear you out, Wayne. You’ve got work to do when you get back to Gotham.” 

You mean it jokingly, but it makes Bruce go still. You sigh softly, tipping your head back against the pillow. 

“I’m sorry,” You mumble. “I didn’t mean it like that.” 

“It’d be alright if you did.” 

“Would it?” 

Bruce rests his chin on your shoulder. You can feel him watching you closely. 

“Yes,” He insists. The two of you lay in contentious quiet for a few moments. He slides his hand over thigh gently. “Do you wish I hadn’t told you?” 

“I don’t know,” You admit. “Sometimes. Mostly when we’re back in Gotham, when I can’t sleep.” 

“Why can’t you sleep?” 

You purse your lips into a thin line. 

“I worry about you.” 

“That happen a lot?” 

“Every day.” 

Bruce presses his face into your neck, grip tightening on your thigh. 

“You think I don’t worry about you? Especially after that incident at the store.” 

“Yeah, well, you may not have to worry about it anymore.” 

It falls out of your mouth with bitter tiredness, and you wince as Bruce tips his chin up to get a better look at you. 

“Why’s that?” He asks. 

“Nothing,” You sigh, “Never mind.” 

“Oh no,” He pushes himself to sit up, leaning against the headboard. “I’ve learned that when you say nothing, there is in fact something.” 

“Is it those strong deductive skills that make you so unstoppable as a vigilante?” You ask dryly. You’re surprised to see Bruce smile as he nods. 

“That’s part of it.” 

“What’s the other part? The inability to answer a straight question or the backlogged billions of dollars?” 

“Actually it’s my ability to see through diversion tactics. So, what happened at work?” 

Damnit. 

You sigh softly, shaking your head. “I’ve been thinking of finding a new job,” You excuse. It’s not a complete lie, but it’s not the whole truth. Bruce doesn’t seem to buy it, but he doesn’t lean any more heavily into it, either. 

“Doing the same thing?” 

“I guess,” You shrug. “I’ve been working in retail for a while. Not sure what else I’d do.” 

“...We don’t have any retail, but I’m sure we could find you something.” 

“We?” You repeat, brows raising. 

“Sure. Wayne Enterprises is always hiring.” 

“Oh—Bruce, I don’t know.” 

“Could just give the listings a browse, see if there’s anything you like. I can put in a good word.” 

“I don’t want you to do that.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because you’re Bruce Wayne, there’s like, no doubt that I’d get it.” 

“I know, that’s why I’m offering.” 

You scoff a laugh, reaching up and pushing Bruce’s shoulder as he grins. 

“C’mon, you know I don’t play that card unless it’s for a good reason,” He adds. 

“On our first date, you rented out an entire restaurant and then took me to get fast food.” 

“Because you didn’t think I would do it.” 

“My point is you played the Bruce Wayne card to rent out the restaurant.” 

“Yes. And everyone there got paid for a full night with the Bruce Wayne credit card.” 

“Well that’s true,” You agree, tipping your head from side to side. Bruce watches you for a moment. 

“Tell you what,” He finally says. “Just…Take a look, see if there’s anything you like the look of. I’ll do some snooping, find out what they liked and didn’t like about the last few people in that position.” 

“Legal snooping or illegal snooping?” 

“Legal snooping.”

“You promise?” 

“Cross my heart. Alright?” 

You smile, nodding. 

“Alright.” 

Bruce leans down, giving you a gentle kiss. You smile, lowering your hand and rubbing his thigh gently. Bruce hums into the kiss, leaning back for just a moment before he shifts down and draws you atop him. You groan softly, sucking on his lip, giggling as he rolls his hips up against yours.

“You fully recovered, Wayne?” You mumble.

“You wanna see how recovered I am?” 

"I can feel it just fine.” 

--  

“I think that’s the last of it,” You sigh, passing your bag over to Alfred. “Thank you.” 

“Of course, miss.” 

“Where’s Bruce?” You ask, nodding to the empty backseat of the car. “I thought the jet was supposed to take off in, like…An hour.” 

“The advantage of taking a private jet is that it doesn’t take off until you’d like for it to,” Alfred smiles. “He said that he would be along shortly.” 

“Huh,” You nod, glancing back toward the villa, “Lemme just…” You pat down your pockets, freezing when you realize that you left your phone in the villa. “Ah…Shit, be right back.” 

“Do hurry, wheels up in half an hour,” Alfred calls after you. 

“That’s not funny!” You call back before jogging into the villa. You glance around the surfaces, spotting your phone where you left it on the kitchen counter. 

“Oh, thank fuck,” You mutter, hurrying over to it. 

“I was gonna bring that out,” You hear behind you. You glance back, smiling when you see him coming closer. 

“No need. You got everything?” 

“Yeah, forgot my passport was in the bedroom. I think it fell out of my jacket when we got in here.” 

“Oh. Where was it?” 

“Under the nightstand.” 

“Jeez. Did you have to toss the room to find it?” 

“No, the corner was peaking out.” 

“That’s lucky.” 

“Mhm. C’mon, we’ll be late for the flight.” 

“It’s your jet.” 

“I know,” Bruce chuckles, taking hold of your hand. “I just wanted to see you get a little twitchy.” 

“You’re an asshole, Wayne,” You pout, following him out of the villa. The sky is growing darker and darker. You can only hope that you’re able to sleep on the jet. If you can’t, you’ll need a straight-up coffee injection for work when you get back…Provided you still have a job when you get there… 

“...You’re doing it again,” Bruce says, breaking your concentration, and you look forward to find him holding the door open for you expectantly. 

“Hm?” 

“What are you thinking?” 

“Nothing.” 

You nearly wince as Bruce’s brows jump in disbelief. 

“Just—Just thinking that I’m gonna miss this place,” You excuse, waving back toward the house. “It’s nice, you know.” 

“Well,” Bruce looks back toward it. “We can come back some time.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” 

“Good. Stop pouting,” Bruce reaches up, gripping your chin and leaning in for a kiss. You smile swaying up into him and hooking your fingers in his collar. 

“Get in the car,” He murmurs, leaning back, “We’ll be late.” 

“We’ll be late,” You repeat childishly before sliding into the back of the car. You look up as you settle in, frowning when you see him still standing outside, looking around. 

“...Bruce?” You press. “What is it?” 

He doesn’t move for a moment before he gets into the car with you. 

“Thought I saw something,” He mutters before shooting you a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry about it. All set, Alfred,” He adds, turning to look to the front seat. 

“Just in the nick of time, sir. I may have to speed if you want to make it through security if you want to make your flight on time.” 

They chuckle as you huff, folding your arms across your chest and sliding down in your seat. 

“You guys are mean.”

Next Part

[obsidiancreates]

Henry Spencer Is A Bastard (With A Broken Nose)

Shawn and Jules have been living together for two weeks when Jules storms into the precinct, grabs Lassiter by the arm, and drags him into the interrogation room.

“O’Hara, what the hell is-”

“You’ve spent time alone with Henry,” she says, sitting Lassiter in the suspect chair. “What was he like?”

“What?”

“This is important, Carlton.”

Lassiter sighs, looking around the room for a moment before answering. “Unpleasant and judgemental. He had every quality of a great cop but none of an actual person I’d spend time with.”

“Which for you is saying something,” Jules mumbles, looking to the side. “Would-would you say you think he’s capable of intentional child endangerment or neglect?”

Lassiter sits up more. “What? O’Hara, what is this about?”

Jules takes a deep breath, looking down at her hands. “I was helping Shawn get some stuff from his old room, and we found an old journal from when he was a kid.It was mostly just doodles and half-finished homework, and he said to just throw it away, but… I kept it. I thought it was cute, to be able to look at what went through his brain as a kid.”

“O’Hara. If you’re alleging what I think-”

“I read more later while he was out with Gus and one of the pages was a failed writing assignment. He was supposed to write about what he did over the weekend and he wrote that his dad locked him a trunk and made him pretend to be kidnapped.”

Lassiter lets out a breath. “Okay. But you and I both know Spencer’s imagination-”

“Carlton, remember the kicked-out tailight? When he got shot?”

“O’Hara, I was with Henry through that whole investigation, and I don’t think I can say that the man I investigated with would purposefully hurt or neglect his son. He was like a machine through the whole thing.”

“There was more, though, Carlton. One of the assignments was to write about how they spent Easter and Shawn’s said he got cut on some glass trying to dig up his eggs. He drew a picture, it-”

She pulls out her phone and hands it to her partner. Lassiter looks at a crude drawing of a small stick figure on it’s hands and knees, overly-large shards on the ground in front of it, and an egg a good few lines below it. There’s a taller stick figure behind the small one, with a wide-open mouth and the words ‘You can do better, Shawn,’ written beside it.

The teacher’s note on the side says that Shawn needs to stop making up stories for assignments about his real life.

Lassiter hands the phone back. “O’Hara…”

Jules sits back in her chair a bit, the tension giving way to a slumped tiredness. “I know they’ve never had an… easy relationship, but Henry has always been so present, ever since we’ve known Shawn. I thought that was a good thing and Shawn’s discomfort was just Shawn being… Shawn.” She looks down at her hand in guilt. “What if I completely missed that he has reason, Carlton?”

Lassiter grabs one of Jules’s hands. “O’Hara, Henry Spencer is a bitter, unlikeable, and overbearing old man- but I really don’t think he’s capable of child abuse.”

Jules holds his hand back and gives it a squeeze. “I just… don’t know how to ask Shawn if these are real. He’s not exactly forthcoming about messy emotions and memories.”

Lassiter nods, and then blinks. “So let’s ask Guster. They’ve been stuck together like flies on a flytrap forever.”

Jules shakes her head. “If Shawn isn’t going to say anything, I really don’t think Gus will.”

“Well, you can either ask Guster if these are real, or you can worry about it forever and never get any answers.” Lassiter knows his partner well enough to know that’s unacceptable to her.

She gives his hand one more squeeze. “I’m just worried. Henry works here. He’s in charge of Shawn.”

“And I’m sure that when we talk to Guster about all this, we’ll learn that Spencer was just exaggerating like he always does.”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Gus reads the page with wide eyes. “Wait, he was serious about that?”

Lassiter stifles the urge to shout ‘Come on!’ when he hears Jules suck in a breath.

“You mean you knew about this already?”

“I mean, Shawn told me once that he liked Easter at my house way more because there was no ‘manhunt training’, but I thought he just meant something like when his dad would have him stakeout their porch.”

“He what?”

“It, sounds worse than it is. … I think.” Gus looks down at the old notebook again. “I thought. … I mean, Henry was always a little intense. When Shawn and I were boyscouts he used to set up challenges that were impossible to win, and then make us feel bad for not winning.”

“What do you mean, impossible to win?” Lassiter is starting to get concerned now. Shawn’s incessant need to show everyone up has been a pain in his ass for years, and if Henry reinforced that grating attitude and now acts like he tried to quell it-

“Stuff like telling us to go find a rocket in the middle of the woods and then going and grabbing it himself. He used to promise us ice cream if we won, then say he’d eat it himself if we didn’t win next time.” Gus’s face pinches the more he talks about the memories. “Gosh, I haven’t thought about that in years. I guess I didn’t realize how messed up that is until I said it out loud.”

“It’s horrible,” Jules says.

“But not criminal,” Lassiter reminds her. “And as… weird and dangerous as the eggs thing is, that’s not criminal either. … I think.”

“What about the trunk, Carlton?”

“... Yeah, that part’s looking pretty bad.”

Gus shuts the notebook. “We need to talk to Shawn about this. I don’t know if I’m even remembering right, but I know he will.”

“He’d never open up about something like this,” Jules says, gesturing to the notebook and letting her arms drop back to her sides with a flop. “He barely tells me about his childhood at all.”

“Well I was there for most of it, and I need to make sure I didn’t miss some serious abuse going down for our entire lives. Do you know how many times I’ve defended his dad to him, Juliet? … Oh my god, on that same boyscout trip with the rocket, he told me his dad had never said he loved him!”

Lassiter doesn’t need to look at Jules to know she’s probably seething with the rage of the entire underworld- if he believed in such a thing. 

Henry better hope they find out it’s not as bad as it’s seeming.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Shawn gets home, Jules, Lassiter, and Gus are all sitting on the couch looking somber. Well, Jules and Gus look somber. Lassiter looks mildly offput.

“Guys! What’s all this, are we having some kinda surprise party?” Shawn looks around for decorations, but there’s nothing. He looks back with excitement. “Is it a case? A big one?”

“Shawn, sit down, we need to ask you about something.” Jules gestures for him to take a seat on a different chair.

“Uh-oh. That’s not your happy voice.” Shawn sits down and leans forward. “Hey, babe, what’s wrong?”

Jules takes a deep breath, and pulls out the notebook. Shawn looks at it. “Oh, that? Please don’t tell me that my drawing skills when I was eight are a dealbreaker.”

“Shawn, did Henry…” Jules falters. Shawn’s expression… 

It doesn’t harden, per say. It just… shifts. Becomes a little closed-off.

“Spencer, did Henry actually make you dig through broken glass to find ridiculous holiday candy?” Lassiter says, offering Jules his hand for support. She takes it.

Shawn’s mouth quirks up in the corner, a huff-laugh escaping him. His eyes aren’t as amused, a dark look in them. “What? How-how’d you know about that?”

“Oh my god.” Gus looks sick.

“Guys, seriously, what is this?” Shawn reaches out and snatches the notebook, flipping through it. Fast at first, and then slower. The slight smirk disappears completely, and Jules and Gus know that habit of sticking his tongue over his teeth means Shawn is not in a good emotional space whatsoever as he reads.

He closes the notebook and tosses it onto the coffee table, sitting back into the chair and sniffling. “It’s uh- it’s nothing.”

“Dude, that is not nothing. I thought you were making that stuff up when we were kids!”

“What? Why would I make that up?” That just seems to confuse Shawn.

“Because you were always making things up!”

“Not about my dad! You were like, the one person I could talk about him with! You thought I was lying about everything the whole time?” Now he looks hurt. 

“Not everything, but crazy stuff like him locking you in a trunk in the middle of a hot day and putting broken glass over your eggs, yeah! Oh my go- this makes me look back on everything I know in a completely different light, Shawn!”

“Okay, you can’t actually be this surprised, Gus. I mean, you were at my house all the time, you know how he was. We couldn’t even play hide-and-seek without me getting a lecture about hunting perps the right way.” The bitterness in his voice is familiar to his friends, the way he keeps from meeting their eyes, the arms crossed over his chest and tense body language. It’s not that they’ve never seen him like this. But they’ve never seen him like this and truly understood it. Even Gus.

Gus, who looks increasingly horrified as he thinks back on more and more memories. “When we were really little and you told me your dad would throw you out for reading comics, were you serious?”

Shawn scoffs a little. “No, I wasn’t.”

“Did he actually ban them?”

“... Yeah. That part he did. He said they made cops look bad.”

“Good god, Spencer, you’re talking like everything in your house was about cops twenty-four-seven.”

“Gee, Lassie, I wonder why. You’ve met my dad, right?”

“But you’re talking like he expected you to be a perfect cop from the second you were born.”

Shawn goes silent. He still won’t look at any of them.

“Oh, my god.” Jules reaches out to put a hand on Shawn’s knee. “Shawn, did he expect that?”

“... Look, guys, it’s… it’s done, alright? It is what it is, and… I’ve accepted that, and I’m working on making things work with my dad. I don’t… I don’t need this. Okay? I don’t want to think about it and get all…” He huffs. “Last time I thought a little too hard about all this stuff I ended up on my motorcycle with nowhere to go, and-and I don’t want to do that again, alright?”

“Shawn, this is important. We’re all working with Henry constantly, watching how he treats you, and this changes how some of that looks.”

“How?” Shawn finally looks at Jules, right in the eyes. “How does this change anything? He’s the same person, Jules. He-he’s controlling, and-and expects way too much, and is disappointed in me. That’s not different now just because you know he went overboard with stuff when I was a kid.”

Lassiter lets out a deep breath. He’d really… really been hoping this wouldn’t be the case. “How overboard, Spencer?”

Shawn looks at Lassie, and then clicks his tongue and looks away again. “Not in that way, man. He never hit me or anything.”

“So what did he do?”

“Why is this an interrogation?” Shawn stands up, pulling away from Jules’s outstretched hand. “This is stuff for me, and my dad to hash out, okay? Just me and him.”

“Did your mom know about this stuff?” Gus asks. 

The mention of his mom seems to make Shawn shut down even more. “Now this is really over.” He walks away, and pauses for just one second to turn around and say, “Don’t- don’t go my dad about all this. I don’t want…”

“... Don’t want what, Shawn?” Jules’s voice is soft and careful.

Shawn doesn’t seem to be able to find the end of the thought. He just shakes his head and walks back out the door.

The three sit in silence for a minute. Jules has tears in her eyes. Gus looks almost shellshocked.

Lassiter stands up. “Alright, I’m officially taking lead on this case.” He looks down at his partner. “O’Hara, find out who in the precinct knew Henry well and still works there. We’ll interview anyone who he might’ve talked to his son about, see if we can dig up any leads there.”

“Whoa, Shawn just said he didn’t want his dad finding out we’re asking about all this, and we just learned he’s way worse than we thought,” Gus says, standing up too. “We can’t start poking around the precinct, because in case you forgot Lassie, he works there!”

“Part-time.”

“He’ll know something is up.”

“Please. I think I know how to run a discreet investigation, Guster.”

“Could you hide something like that from Shawn?”

“... Of course.”

“No, you couldn’t, and if you can’t hide it from Shawn it’s a safe bet that you can’t hide it from his dad.”

Jules stands up. “No, Carlton is right. None of us realized how these pieces fit together until we all talked about it with each other, right? If Shawn won’t… can’t, open up to us about it, the next best thing is getting as many witness statements as possible.”

“Why? It just feels like digging things up to dig them up at this point.”

“Because Henry is currently in charge of Spencer’s livelihood, Guster.”

“I know! He’s in charge of part of mine too!”

“Right.” Jules looks up at Lassiter. “And if we can prove to The Chief that Henry has a negative, unreliable bias against Shawn, we can lessen some of that control!”

“As much as I’d hate to see Spencer off the leash again, I’d hate to be helping enable an abuser even more,” Lassiter agrees. 

“Abuser is a strong word.” Gus doesn’t look like he feels that sentence is 100% true. “He wasn’t all bad a lot of the time. I mean, he loosened up on the comic thing when we were older.”

“We know he cares, Gus,” Jules assures. “But, caring doesn’t mean he didn’t do something wrong. Really, really wrong.”

Gus swallows, and then nods. “I know.”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They collect a good few statements over the next week.

One statement claims that Shawn would play poker with some of the officers when Henry brought him to the station- why Henry was bringing a seven year old to an active police station and then not keeping an eye on him was something that went unanswered- and that Henry was obviously upset when he discovered this. Another statement corroborated the story, and added that he caught sight of Henry taking all the money Shawn made from the games and shoving it into the police donation box.

One statement was from an elderly file sorter, who claimed that Shawn was sometimes sent down to grab files for his dad and used to complain to her that henry would only buy Shawn cop car toys, and no others. When she’d asked Shawn if he wanted to be a cop when he grew up, Shawn had reportedly said quote, “Something about not getting a choice.” Other statements claimed, when this was brought up, that Shawn seemed very excited by the idea of being a cop when he grew up- until his arrest.

One statement, given by someone Lassiter vaguely remembers being rookies with back in the day, lends more credibility to the recollections of the elderly woman. The statement claimed that when the rookie would go on ride-alongs with Henry or work under him, Henry would almost always complain about Shawn. Everything from Shawn having an interest that didn’t relate to being a cop, to Shawn ‘acting like a child’ when he would have been under twelve according to the timeline, to Shawn ‘not even trying’ during a specific incident where Henry claimed Shawn forged his signature to go on a field trip and quote “hesitated for a second with his pen or something- I remember it was something really minor, and Henry couldn’t stand it. I thought it was weird that he was teaching his son how to forge signatures and then expecting the kid to never use the skill, but it wasn’t really my place to say.”

By the end of the week, Jules is steaming and Shawn hasn’t come around the precinct at all. Gus keeps dropping by, digging up old journals of his own to use as cross-references when possible. Shawn is quiet with Jules at home, like he’s waiting for something big to happen and he’s worried he could trigger it early.

It makes Jules more upset at Henry, because now her boyfriend’s emotional immaturity seems a lot less like a natural childish nature and a lot more like having genuinely never been taught how to handle anything.

No, according to the information she and Lassiter have gathered, it looks like all Henry taught Shawn was that winning is everything, being the best is non-negotiable, and Shawn was born to be a cop and anything that didn’t align with that idea just… shouldn’t be there.

“Wow.” Lassiter tosses the latest statement onto his desk. “And I thought Henry didn’t discipline Spencer enough as a kid. Some of this stuff makes it sound like Spencer grew up in a boot camp.”

“He basically did,” Jules says bitterly, reading over one of Gus’s old notebooks. “Gus wasn’t even looking for evidence of it, and these journals are full of casual, offhand observations that look worse and worse the more we know. Listen to this one. ‘Today Shawn was in a bad mood, and when I asked him why he said his dad stole his mood ring after showing him to turn the box upside-down. I said that’s cheating, and Shawn said it can’t be if his dad said to do it.’ Who the hell steals a mood ring from a kid?”

“You’re getting caught on the small stuff again, O’Hara.”

“I know, I know. I just- now that we know some of the major things, even the small stuff is making me just unbelievably angry.”

“Yeah, it’s rough to read. At least you and I wanted to be cops.”

“Right? No wonder Shawn ended up a psychic detective, how do you just do something else after being raised so specifically like that? And no wonder he-he buys EasyBake Ovens and goofs off all the time, he had it so strict as a kid…”

“Mmmmm… let’s not excuse every antic, O’Hara. A lot fo it is still just him being a jackass.”

“I won’t get into this with you again, Carlton.”

“Good, I don’t want to get into it again either. … Heads up.”

Jules closes the notebook and tucks it into a desk drawer as swiftly and inconspicuously as possible, Lassie doing the same for his file. Henry walks past them, barley sparing a glance as he makes his way somewhere else.

Jules stares daggers at him so intensely that if dropped to the ground covered with enough puncture wounds to imitate Julias Caesar, Lassiter would think it was a mild scene all things considered.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s three weeks since Jules found the notebook when Shawn rolls over in bed, puts his arm around, and mumbles “I have an eidetic memory.”

Jules puts her book down and looks at Shawn with furrowed brows. “What?”

Shawn sighs and sits up properly. “I have an eidetic memory,” he says again, “And… I don’t like looking back, because I remember everything perfectly. Which means I usually remember what I felt perfectly too, and it usually wasn’t great feelings.” He can’t look her in the eyes this time, either, but instead of the tense, protective body language of before, he’s holding a pillow close to his chest and slightly burying his face into it, almost sagging around it.

Jules starts to rub his back. She knows how hard this kind of… difficult emotional discussion, is for him. Now she even knows why- suspects why, really, because not all of it is proven in full, but still she thinks she can cout is as knowing. “Why didn’t you tell me about this before?”

“About the memory?”

“Yeah. That sounds… really difficult to deal with, Shawn. Does Gus know?”

“Yeah, he knows. I think other than my dad, and… and you, he’s the only person who knows.”

“Shawn…”

“I just, I just want you to know… that I’m not asking you to drop it for no reason,” Shawn says, “Or-or because I don’t feel like it’s important. I know it is, I do. I just…”

“Don’t want to relive a lot of it,” Jules says softly. “... Shawn, does this mean you remember everything perfectly? All the time?”

“Eh… fifty-fifty. The ADHD gets in the way sometimes.”

“... But when it doesn’t?”

“I just try not to think about a lot of it.” Shawn moves again, to look her in the eyes, He takes a deep breath, and he looks a little pained. This kind of thing is painful for him, he’s so unsure how to navigate it. “I have to keep moving forward, Jules. It’d be so… so easy to just get stuck, forever, in all the stuff stored in my head. And I’m really, really trying to, I mean that. It’s difficult, and I’m not… always great at it, but I’m trying.”

“And you’re worried we’ll set you back?”

“No! No, I… I don’t know.” Shawn lets Jules pull him close to her chest and begin running her hand through his hair. “My dad and I don’t solve stuff, Jules. We just… argue over it. I’m getting tired of it.”

“... I understand.” She kisses the top of his head. “But I don’t like him being in charge of you when you’re a grown man anymore.”

“You think I do? … But it’s making him a lot happier than he’s been in a long time.”

“You should be happy too, Shawn.”

“Hey. Hey, I am happy.” He looks up into her eyes. “Look at me right now. I’m being cradled like a sweet little baby seal by the most beautiful, badass woman in the entire world. Of course I’m happy.”

Jules laughs a little and contorts a bit to kiss him on the mouth. “I’m glad you told me that, Shawn. And I promise, I won’t ask you to relive anything else for me.”

“... But you’re not going to stop investigating my dad, are you?”

“Did you stop with mine?”

“... Fair enough.” Shawn lays his head back down, and soon enough Jules hears soft snoring from him and mumbled phrases in his sleep.

…

An eidetic memory. Perfect recall.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Jules goes over everything they have so far knowing Shawn has a perfect memory, it makes her angry to such a degree that she thinks it might kill her. Not literally, but it feels strong enough.

She has some of Shawn’s old report cards, some statements she got from former teachers via social media contact, and some copies of pages of one of Gus’s old journals laid out in front of her, and she sees a pattern.

Shawn didn’t do good in school. His report cards are less than average, and are packed with notes about how he doesn’t pay attention, doesn’t seem to absorb any information, and doesn’t remember anything he’s taught. The statements from the teachers describe Shawn as hyperactive, passionate about everything but his schoolwork, and having difficulty with staying observant in class.

Gus’s old journals are full of the same, but also the opposite. Shawn didn’t pay attention in school, but sometimes he could pull something the teacher said from his memory word for word without even trying, and then a few entries later Gus would mention Shawn failed a test on that exact subject. Shawn got beat up because he told a bully he memorized the pattern of answers used in the math tests, but his dad told the teacher and let Shawn know he was doing it. And most of all, Gus writes about how freaky his friend’s ability to look at people and figure them out is. How Shawn notices almost everything almost all the time, and usually makes some dramatic conclusion that isn’t right, but he still notices things and Gus can’t figure out how Shawn fingers things out.

Detective training, and an eidetic memory, and psychic visions. Jules is now pretty sure that Shawn covers up some of his deductions using his visions- he’s known enough impossible information that they can’t possibly all be deductions in disguise, but when she thinks back there’s a few times where it’s obvious in hindsight he used his abilities to cover up the fact that he’s an incredible, highly-trained detective.

Maybe she’s jumping to a conclusion, but she finds herself thinking ‘Because Henry made him hate that he can do it so well,’ as she pieces it all together.

Gus’s journals lend a lot of credit to that theory. Shawn is smart, and Gus knows it, but Shawn acts dumb sometimes and Gus doesn’t understand why, and then Gus mentions that it’s weird that Henry kept Shawn up all night before to stakeout their porch and now Shawn is tired during Little League and Henry tells him to get his head in the game because Henry is the coach.

Henry is the coach, Henry is the chaperone on the field trip, Henry is their Scout Master- he’s in charge of every part of Shawn’s life except for school. And Maddie is rarely brought up, even when Gus writes about spending all day or night or even weekend at the Spencer house. Jules hasn’t seen Shawn’s Mom since Yang almost blew her up, and she just figured that Maddie wanted to stay out of Santa Barbara after that, understandably. She’s getting a different feeling about Maddie staying away now. It seems a lack of presence was her main impression in Shawn’s life, or at least, Shawn’s life through the lens of Child Gus.

So it was basically just Henry. And her heart aches for the thought of someone being stuck in a bad marriage, basically raising a kid alone, and that kid being as hyper and curious and chaotic as Shawn. But the ache is smothered in the sense of righteous rage when she reads other entries about things like a girl throwing a ball at Shawn and missing, and an ostrich choking on the ball, and Henry dragging Shawn away. The entry goes on to say that Shawn told Gus that Henry didn’t believe him when he said he didn’t do it, even after then-superior officer Captain Connors came in and tried to vouch for Shawn.

Henry always assumed the worst. Assumes, the worst, still.

Shawn tries so hard, sometimes, with his dad, and Jules is starting to realize that Henry doesn’t put the same effort in. He tries some, she knows it, she’s seen it, but she also sees him constantly berate, put down, and insult Shawn, publicly and privately. 

Suddenly she remembers something from when Shawn went undercover on the dating show, something she’d been too upset over about Shawn being there at all to really take in in the moment.

“I’m sorry, this woman is way too good for my son. If it was me, I’d vote no.”

She doesn’t have Shawn’s memory, so without rewatching the clip she can’t be totally sure those are Henry’s exact words, but she’s certain that it’s the exact sentiment.

First of all, she takes a little offense to that for herself. But secondly and more strongly, she takes offense for Shawn. As she thinks about it she can remember the way Shawn tried to cover up the awkwardness in the clip, the way the girl on the show whispered “Is this a joke?” and the way it absolutely was not. The way Henry said that on TV, to Shawn’s face, with no hint of shame.

“O’Hara.” She looks up to see Lassiter holding a cup of coffee and a bagel for her. She takes them and Lassiter says, “There’s more steam coming out of your ears than there is that cup.”

“Sorry,” she sighs. “I just… I don’t know if I can control myself tomorrow when Henry comes back in. The more I dig into this, the more I want to just- go back in time and pick little Shawn up and take him somewhere better.”

“Well as much as we don’t like it, O’Hara, Spencer is who he is because he was raised the way he was raised.”

“I know. And I like, who Shawn is!”

“Inexplicably.”

“Carlton.”

“Mmm.”

“Anyway… I love Shawn, and who he is, all of him, but I still wish he could’ve been who he is without going through all of this. It’s not okay.”

“No. No, it’s not.” Lassiter sighs. “Look, O’Hara, put the case down for a while. At this point we’ve got enough to at least make The Chief doubt some of Henry’s intentions and judgements when it comes to Spencer and, well, that was the goal.”

“... Yeah. Yes, okay, I will… I will put this down for a few days.” Jules closes up the file and puts it back into her drawer. “Shawn is still less than happy I’m working on this, anyway. He understands why, but I know he wishes he didn’t.” He probably understands a lot of things he wishes he didn’t. Jules has had to grapple with the realization that she actually doesn’t know as much about how Shawn’s mind works as she thought she knew, and that it’s possible she’ll never know a lot of it. There’s more than just psychic visions to the mystery of his mind, and some of those mysteries are locked up with a key cast out of self-resentments and resentments of his dad.

God, she hopes she can keep up a poker face when Henry comes in.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Her file is missing from her desk the next day, and so is Lassiter’s. They both know why.

They march over to Henry’s desk just as Gus comes in to collect a check, and all three end up standing over Henry as he openly and unashamedly reads through the Spencer Upbringing Case File. Gus takes a step back when he realizes that’s what’s happening, as does Lassiter.

But not because of Henry.

Jules looks murderous.

Henry purses his mouth in a frown and nods, raising up the file and then closing it and tossing it onto his desk in one smooth movement. “It’s comprehensive,” he says, like he’s grading a paper. “But it’s a bunch of biased bull.”

“Give them back.” Jule’s voice is ice-cold. 

Henry shrugs, moving his head side to side for a second, still frowning, and then says, “Nah.” He takes the files, and drops them in the trash. “I think you owe me an explanation for why the head detective and his partner are investigating the way I raised my son. Why’d Shawn put you up to this?”

“He didn’t.”

Henry scoffs. “Yeah, right.”

Jules slams one hand onto Henry’s desk. The whole bullpen goes quiet.

“I was helping Shawn get something from your house, and I found a notebook,” she says. 

“Oh, so, you found one of Shawn’s little projects where he exaggerated things to make himself look like a victim of the world?”

“I found the writings of a little kid who didn’t seem to realize at the time of writing that being locked in a hot car trunk and digging through broken glass for Easter Eggs wasn’t normal.”

Henry laughs, crossing his arms. “That’s what you have a problem with? It’s called training, detective. You went through it yourself.”

“When I was an adult, by my choice, and I sure as hell never had to dig through glass.”

“You’re really hung up on that.”

“Because it’s genuinely evil!”

Henry’s smug look melts into a scowl. “How dare you.”

“How dare I?! Do you understand how much all of this is still affecting Shawn, even right now?! He can barely talk about all of this!” “Oh, well, he sure seem capable of reminding me of it.”

“Because you did it! You’re the only other person in the entire world who understood what was done to him in the name of training because you did it!”

“Done to h- you’re overreacting, detective!”

“I, agree, what is going on out here?” Chief Vick hurries over to Henry’s desk from her own. “Detectives, there had better be a damn good reason-”

“There is, Chief.” Lassiter reaches into the trashcan and pulls out the files.

“Karen, Detective O’Hara has allowed her romantic entanglement with my son to-”

“Henry was borderline abusive during Shawn’s childhood,” Jules interrupts, facing her Chief. Chief Vick’s eyes widen and her mouth drops open, a disbelieving laugh escaping her even as she accepts the files and flips them open. “You understand what it is you’re alleging, O’Hara, and against who?”

“I do, Chief, and I think our case file speaks for itself.” All eyes are on them now. Jules doesn’t back down. “I’m well aware of my emotional ties to this case, but I assure you I’m not allowing it to cloud my judgment. If I was, I wouldn’t have used the word borderline to describe the conclusions I’ve come to.”

“Karen, this is ridiculous.”

But Chief Vick is focused on the files in her hands. Her eyes flick up to Henry. “Is it?” She looks over to Gus, who’s been watching with the quiet tension of a prey animal waiting to make a run for it. “Mister Guster, can you genuinely testify to the validity and accuracy of the claims in these files?”

“Oh, um, well, most of those are from my own journals.” Gus’s eyes flick between Henry and Jules. “I’d say that’s even more reliable than just plain memory.”

“It certainly is.” Chief Vick turns her eyes back to the file. “Henry, I think after I’m done going through these we’re going to have a chat about some of your current responsibilities and extent of authority over consultants.”

“Oh, come on, Karen!” Henry looks around at the entire precinct staring, and judging. “This is completely unfounded, and-and blown way out of propor-!”

Henry doesn’t finish the sentence because Juliet O’Hara punches him in the nose.

There’s gasps from everyone in the room. Jules’s fist is bloodied. Henry’s nose went CRUNCH! when her fist made contact.For a long moment it’s like the whole room has collectively stopped breathing. 

“I don’t make unfounded accusations, Henry,” Jules breathes. “Especially not when I have been building a case for over a month, and have watched Shawn completely close off whenever I asked him about this.”

Henry holds his nose, looking at Jules with fear that Lassiter and Gus don’t think is nearly intense enough. “Juliet,” Henry pants, blood streaming out from between his fingers. “This is insane.”

“Quiet, Spencer.” Lassiter moves Jules a little farther away. Her fist is still raised. “I won’t tolerate you disrespecting my partner, especially not in the same way you do your son.”

“What?! You can’t believe all this too, Lassiter.”

“You know I’m not Shawn’s biggest fan, but if you think what O’Hara has done over the last month is anything less than the best damn investigation possible then I have to seriously reconsider some of our shared opinions of your son’s work.”

Gus glances at a box of tissues on Henry’s desk- and then subtly moves to knock them on the floor and kicks them away.

“Herny, I’m going to have to ask you to step away from the precinct for a few days while this gets handled. O’Hara, I’m going to need to speak with you in my office.”

Jules lowers her fist, and nods. She knows she can’t just punch Henry and get away with it scot-free, and she accepts that.

No-one moves to help Henry. Not a single soul. He grumbles as he makes his way past Gus to grab a different box of tissues.

“It’s like he just sucks the respect out of people,” Henry grumbles. 

CRACK!

No-one is more surprised than Gus when his fist slams into Henry’s jaw. Gus reels away immediately, shrinking and cradling his hand, as Henry goes down.

“Mister Guster!” Chief Vick moves forward to try and catch Henry.

“Uuuuh!” Guss whines, shaking his hand. “I-I mean, you don’t get to say that about Shawn! He asked us not to keep doing this! You gotta stop assuming the worst of him all the time!”

“When he earns it!” Henry barks out, then groans and spits. It’s mostly blood.

“You won’t let him earn it!” Jules is furious again. “How many killers does he have to catch for you to see that your son is an amazing man?!”

“It’s not about catching killers,” Henry says, spitting again. “It’s about growing up.”

“Says the grown man who can’t even tell his son ‘I love you’.”

“He doesn’t say it either.”

“That’s not helping your case, Spencer.” Lassiter has his eyes on Jules and Gus. “And considering I’m the only one on said case who hasn’t taken a shot at you yet, I’d say keep your mouth shut.”

“Oh, what do you know.” Henry spits a third time. The Chief looks about ready to punch him herself. “Father-son relationships are complicated, especially when the father wants what’s best for the son and the son just wants to throw everything away and get himself killed!”

“You wanted him to be a cop, Spencer, you didn’t exactly put him on a path to a peaceful and easy life.”

“I put him on the right path, and he never appreciated it, and that is what your case file should say!”

“You know what, Spencer?” Lassiter takes a step closer to the bleeding man. “I’ve put up with a lot of crap from both you and your son over the years, and you two are a lot more similar than you think. But one thing I can say that Shawn has over you is that he doesn’t mean it when he says stupid crap like that.”

“He looks up to you, you ass,” Jules adds. “And he is willing to put aside all of the things you say and do to him to have a good relationship with you. Do you understand how incredible that is? That you don’t even have to work to have him in your life? That he comes to you no matter how many times you tear into him for it?”

“He comes to me because he never listens when he needs to.” Henry’s face is starting to become very purple as the bruises set in. “I don’t know what he’s been telling you, but he needs, my help.”

“Exactly! And he feels like you’re reliable enough to give it to him, and you do! So why do you treat that as though it’s a fault? Do you have any idea what I would have given as a kid, and even now, to be able to just-just go up to my dad and say ‘I need help,’ and have him be there to help me? That means the world!”

“Not to Shawn.” Henry looks pained beyond just the broken nose and possible broken jaw. “The kid is too focused on himself.”

“You don’t know your son at all, then.” Jules turns and walks with The Chief to her office.

Gus shakes his head, grabs the check out of Henry’s paperwork pile, checks that it’s signed, and leaves. 

“Oh, really? It’s up to me to take him to the hospital?” Lassiter looks around and then huffs. “Alright, Spencer. Don’t bleed on my seats, or my dashboard, or anything but yourself.”

“I’m not a bad father,” Henry says, still holding his nose. “I care about my son.”

“Yeah, and somehow Shawn knows that even though you act the way you do.” Lassie buckles Henry in for him so that the nose remains pinched. “But here’s the thing, Spencer. Your son is an arrogant, attention-hogging, impulsive, completely absurd person, and he didn’t just become like that out of a vacuum.”

“Yes he did. I did everything I could. I did everything right as much as possible.”

Lassiter sighs as he gets into the driver’s seat. “You seriously think that? You’d be okay with your grandkid being raised that way?”

“If they had Shawn’s potential, yes.”

“... Dammit.” Lassiter turns to Henry, and punches him in the gut. Henry coughs, and then chokes on his own blood, and then coughs again.

“What the hell?!” Henry gets out between hacks.

“O’Hara would’ve done it. I feel like I owed it to her. … And honestly, Spencer, after compiling that damn case, I’ve been wanting to do it for myself anyway. I already knew you were an overbearing perfectionist with a control issue, but you wishing your son was more like that than he is is even worse.”

“Shawn’s no perfectionist,” Henry wheezes. 

“But he is overbearing with a control issue more often than not. Like I said inside, you two are a lot more similar than you think, and frankly I blame you for the parts of Shawn that go past mild annoyance and into infuriating obstacle.”

“I’d never just hand a collar over to save someone’s ego,” Henry coughs out.

“See, that’s where I wish Shawn wasn’t like you.”

“He’s handed you a collar twice.”

“What? He has not.”

And Henry must be a little delirious from the repeated blows, because Lassiter is pretty sure his next words of “See, this is why Shawn should’ve been head detective,” wouldn’t come out of him otherwise.

Lassiter grips the steering wheel tighter and makes a sharp turn into the hospital parking lot. “Well he’s not, and from the sound of things he never would’ve been anyway.”

“He could’ve been a perfect cop.”

“He’d have been miserable and you know it.”

“He’d be doing things right.”

“You’re hopeless.” Lassiter isn’t any gentler helping Henry out of the car than he was helping him in. “I’m not picking you back up when they’re done with you.”

“I’ll call Shawn.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you will.” And Shawn will come, and probably be mad on his dad’s behalf, and will definitely be mad at all three of the punchers, because he loves his dad enough to overlook years and years of mistreatment that most people would probably consider ground for cutting contact. “And Spencer? If you ever insult O’Hara’s work again, or say anything that gets her that angry, I will help her cover up your disappearance.”

“You don’t mean that,” Henry scoffs.

“Try me.” Lassiter gets back in his car. “And if I hear from her that you’re still badmouthing your son to his face, I’ll make you disappear myself.”

And then he drives away. 

And Henry walks into the hospital alone.

[georgie-weasley]

Mastermind F.W. x reader

Warnings: one swear word, talk of Death Eaters destroying shops, reader tries to play Fred like a game of chess but it's not weird, two mentions of Fred's forearms and his tummy

Word Count: 4.4k

Pairing: Fred Weasley x fem!reader

Summary: You were going to get Fred Weasley if it was the last thing you did a.k.a how the reader tries to see if Fred likes them and makes him like her by trying to be 12 steps ahead of him

A/N: Another shout out to Taylor Swift for inspiring me to write

Masterlist

Fred Weasley. What a fine, fine man. Everyone could see it. There was not a soul on the planet who thought otherwise and if they did, they couldn’t have been real. He was beautiful, divine, delicious.

The first time you saw Fred was when you were 11 at the sorting. He was funny, trying to switch places with his twin and all, but you were both children. The only thing you were thinking about was what house you would be in and if your parents would be happy with that placement.

Throughout your Hogwarts years, you didn’t spend much time with Fred. Sure you shared some classes and you saw him in the halls but you never really interacted with him. Actually you spent more time with George; it was quite impressive how quickly you could tell them apart. The first time you really looked at Fred was during your sixth year at the Yule Ball. When you saw him standing there in his dress robes, you decided then and there you were going to have Fred Weasley even if it was the last thing you did.

The Great Hall had been emptied of the large tables and benches to create an open space perfect for dancing. That was exactly what you did. Your date, a sweet Hufflepuff boy named Justin, and you had been dancing the night away and enjoying your time together. He was cute and made you smile and everything was going amazing until Fred. He had been there the whole time but it wasn’t until now as he shed his coat and rolled up his sleeves that you cared. Oh my. He threw his coat onto a nearby chair and the smirk he gave his date just about made you turn into a puddle. You had to get close to him.

With your mind moving a million miles a minute, you hatched up a plan. Your date was going to ask you if you wanted some punch soon after a couple of well placed coughs. When he left to go get the drinks, you would make your way to George, telling your date you wanted to check in with your friends. Was it wrong to leave this poor boy as you chased another? Maybe if you didn’t know for a fact that Justin had the biggest crush on your friend. Once you got to George, it would be easy to get Fred.

Two coughs and sweet little Justin was playing his part well. He disappeared to get you some punch and you slipped through the crowd, eyes set on Fred. He was dancing now without a care in the world. Head and hips shaking, he was drawing you in. George was a little calmer and it made it much easier to get close to him. You spun around to face away from him and carefully timed your steps to bump into him right on beat. It looked like an accident which is exactly what it needed to look like. Fred and George were smart and you didn’t doubt they would figure your plan out if you slipped up.

“Whoops,” you spun around, feigning surprise as you looked up at George. “Sorry George. I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

George only smiled and threw his arm around your shoulder. “Not a problem Y/N. I hope you and Justin are having fun. Where is he anyway?” He looked around, trying to spot your date.

“Oh he just stepped away to get me some punch. What about your date? Are you guys having fun?” You knew he didn’t have a date. For the past week George had been convincing his brothers that it was fine to go without a date. Him and Lee were technically going together but Lee currently was too preoccupied with Alicia Spinnet to dance with George.

“I didn’t come with a date.” What a surprise.

“Well then I guess that just means there’s no one stopping you from dancing with me.” You grabbed his hand and pulled him closer to you as you moved closer to his twin. George only laughed and spun you as the two of you moved. He held your hands and danced; it wasn’t graceful and it followed a rhythm you could only assume was in his head but it was fun. George would be a fantastic brother-in-law one day. The group soon formed a small circle and you squeezed yourself between the twins. A great place to be really. You all grabbed hands and began what could only be called a whirlpool as you began spinning in a circle. As the song transitioned into a slow one, people started to pair off. You took both of Fred’s hands in yours and smiled up at him.

“May I have this dance George?” You knew it was Fred, however if he thought that you thought that he was George and you had just been dancing with George, he was less likely to deny you. Fred furrowed his eyebrows and as he caught sight of Angelina dancing with Alicia, he only shrugged and settled his hand on your waist.

“It’s actually Fred but yes, you may.” He spun you around slowly, carefully watching his feet so he didn’t step on yours.

“I hope I didn’t steal you away from your date.”

“You didn’t.” You most certainly did but she looked like she preferred dancing with Alicia anyway so there was no harm done. “What about your date?”

“Oh Justin? He went off to get some punch but he must have gotten lost or preoccupied.” You shrugged, honestly hoping he was dancing with someone else.

The rest of the dance was quiet, you and Fred only occasionally whispering to each other. When it finally did end, your feet were killing you and you needed to sit before you fell over. Actually, that wasn’t half bad. You parted from Fred and stumbled perhaps a little too dramatically but it did the job. Fred reacted quickly and wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you up.

“Whoa there Y/N. You ok?” His sweet brown eyes were full of concern. They were full of concern for you and it made your heart flutter. He carefully took you over to a table and lowered you into a chair.

You nodded, kicking off one shoe. “I’m ok, my feet are just really sore.”

Fred kneeled in front of you and helped you take off the other shoe. “Well, that would be because you’re wearing these death traps.” He chuckled and took your foot in his hand, thumbs digging into them to try and work out some of the ache.

“So, Angelina.”

“So, Justin.” Fred glanced up at you before switching and massaging the other foot.

“Are you two dating?” You wanted Fred and you knew somehow you would get him but if he was taken, you would back off. It would have been horrible to hurt Angelina like that, even if she had your man. You also would have left Fred alone if he showed any discomfort or lack of interest at all but seeing as he was willingly trying to care for your sore feet, you didn’t think he was uncomfortable at all.

“No. If we were, I would not be over here massaging your feet.” Fred smiled and moved into the chair next to you. “What about you and Justin?”

“No, we’re just friends.”

“That’s good because currently he’s over yonder sucking face with some girl.”

You snorted and looked around, spotting him in the corner. Good for him. “It’s a good thing you and Angelina aren’t a couple either because I think her and Alicia have disappeared.” Fred only rolled his eyes and stretched his arms, his shirt rising up and his stomach peaking out. Was it getting hot in here or was it just Fred? You could really do with that punch now. “I think I’m officially done dancing for the night. You worked so hard to make my feet feel better and I would hate to ruin all your hard work.” He would stay with you, at least for a little bit. Fred was loud and honestly obnoxious but he was kind and a gentleman at heart. He would never leave you all by yourself at a dance.

“Would you like some company at the table then?”

“That would be lovely.”

---

The Yule Ball started a strong friendship between you and the twins. For the rest of the year the three of you had become practically inseparable. You loved George but some of your favorite parts of the day were when he was nowhere to be found and it was just you and Fred. Of course you were part of the reason for that, convincing George to run off and pull pranks on his own or see Katie Bell. you spent the rest of your sixth year finding ways to be alone with Fred and trying to find ways to make him like you. You never changed anything about yourself but you did pick up a couple of new hobbies that were certain to get Fred’s attention.

As the year ended and summer began, you wrote letters to the twins as often as you could. Your family was busy on holiday and though it was unknown to you, the twins couldn’t answer much anyway as they stayed in Grimmauld Place with the Order. As school began, so did more of your planning. It was hard avoiding Umbridge especially once her rule about boys and girls being close together was put in place but Fred had never been one to follow rules. You sent him secret messages, asking to meet you late at night in a hidden passage or in empty classrooms. They were innocent meetings, much to your disappointment, as Fred still had not asked you out. At this point you feared he never would. It was time to pull out the big guns. George. He was the big gun.

“George!” You chased after the ginger, shoving your way through the mass of students going about their day. “George Fabian Weasley!” That got him. He whirled around at the sound of his full name and for a second there was some fear in his eyes. When he caught sight of you, he visibly relaxed and waved, waiting for you.

“For a minute I thought my mother made her way into Hogwarts,” he laughed as you approached. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” He threw his arm around your shoulder and began walking.

“I actually needed to talk to you about something.” You were only a little worried about telling George your plans to get Fred but despite all of your planning, nothing was working. “Something that would be better discussed in private.” You were confident that somewhere in his heart and brain, Fred liked you just as much as you liked him but nothing was working. You needed help.

George raised an eyebrow but nodded and looked around the busy hallway before taking you over to a witch statue. “Step into my office.” He tapped the back of the witch with his wand and whispered a spell before it opened up into a hidden passage. The two of you slid inside and the opening closed behind you. “So, what exactly did you want to talk about?”

How were you supposed to say it? You didn’t want George thinking you were weird for trying to make Fred like you or ask you out but that’s basically what you were doing. Well, if there was no better way to explain it then might as well just say it how it is. Or just tell a small white lie. “I like Fred and I’m trying to spend some more time with him to see if he feels the same.”

George smiled wide and patted you on the back. “Well that’s great. Personally I would love to see you get together with my twin. Is there a reason you needed to tell me? I can ask him if he feels the same.”

“No, don't ask. I’d rather see if I can figure it out. I could use some help though.”

“Sure, whatever you need.” Thank Merlin for George.

---

The first plan you conspired with George was to leave some of your things around with him and then he would have Fred deliver them. That one was easy and while it did make Fred come see you and start to match different items with you, nothing had changed.

Next step was a little harder and had a greater risk of detention. In your Advanced Potions class one day, you stole a small vial of Amortentia; it was a powerful love potion that was supposed to smell differently to each person who smelled it. You smelled honey, Butterbeer, and gunpowder; basically you smelled Fred each time you caught a whiff of the potion. You weren’t planning on giving it to Fred because making him fall in love with you because of a potion was wrong and it would be the easy way out. You just wanted to know what he smelled and see if it smelled like you.

At breakfast the day after you stole it, you approached the twins. “I need both of you to smell this and tell me what it smells like.” You set the small vial in front of them.

“Is it poison?” Fred mused, grabbing it and swirling the pearlescent potion.

“Sniff it and find out.” You rolled your eyes and took it from him before shoving it under George’s nose. He would go along with it no questions asked. He trusted you and you say this with love but he was a little more dumb in a sense. Both boys were incredibly smart and while Fred was very carefree and did whatever he wanted, he still had the good sense to question things even if they came from someone he knew. George however probably would have drank it if you asked him to. He was a delight.

George took a long sniff and hummed. “It smells nice, kinda like lemons and maybe a campfire and… trees.”

“Trees?” You and Fred both asked at the same time.

“Yeah trees. Don’t look at me like I’m stupid. Trees have a special smell.” George crossed his arms over his chest and turned away from you.

“Whatever you say Tree Boy. Fred?” You held it out to him and with a sigh, he leaned over and smelled it.

“I don’t smell trees at all, even if they do apparently have a special smell. I smell something more like fresh baked bread and vanilla and something I can’t quite place.” Fred shrugged and leaned back, watching you closely. It took a lot of effort to keep your face neutral when all you wanted to do was grab him by the shoulders and shake him until he could place that last smell.

“Great.” You quickly spun around and started to take off when Fred stopped you.

“I know what it is. It smells like your shampoo.” You couldn’t even pretend to be neutral as he said this. A large smile spread across your face and you continued walking away. That lifted a huge weight off of your shoulders. It meant that he at least found you attractive in some way so this wasn’t all a big waste. You would have been pissed if you stole from Snape for no reason.

Now that you knew Fred at least liked you a little, you and George amped it up. He would ask Fred to meet him somewhere and you would conveniently be there as well. Then before Fred could even ask George why he was brought there, George would disappear and leave you alone with Fred.

---

You thought that maybe after all of your hard work Fred would finally ask you out but he didn’t. In fact, he left Hogwarts before graduation. The average person would have given up at this point but you refused. You spent the end of the school year trying to figure out what to do next. It wasn’t until after you graduated and had a job that you came up with another plan.

After graduating, you decided to spend a year working in Flourish and Blotts, the bookstore in Diagon Alley. It wasn’t your dream job but it was a good place and it had a room available right above it. With Death Eaters roaming around it wasn’t as fun as you hoped it would have been but it worked. You had somewhere to live and a job to pay for food. It also turned out to be the perfect spot to continue your quest for Fred Weasley. Right after school Fred and George opened up a joke shop and despite the Death Eaters and general depressing atmosphere, the joke shop was doing extremely well.

During your breaks you wandered Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes mostly hoping for a chance to see either twin but also it was probably the safest place to be. Over the first few weeks you learned his schedule pretty easily. He worked almost all day on the weekend since it was the busiest time at the shop. He worked less on Mondays and Thursdays and every Wednesday he got ice cream on his lunch break. You weren’t stalking him, you swear. If he showed any sign of hating you or not liking how frequently he saw you, then you would have stopped. Something just felt like Fred was the one.

You decided the best place to bump into him would be Wednesday during lunch. It wouldn’t be as creepy if you just so happened to see him out and about, because you aren’t stalking him. One Wednesday, you did just that. The plan was to get him alone and talk to him. You would catch up and you would mention how much you missed seeing him and then he would finally ask you out. You walked from the bookstore to the ice cream shop with your head down and hoped you would run into Fred and not a Death Eater. Only a few feet from the store, you rammed into someone and almost fell over if they hadn’t wrapped their arms around your waist. It had to have been Fred or a very polite Death Eater.

“Y/N?” You looked up to see a shocked Fred holding his ice cream out of harm’s way. “Is that really you? Gosh it's been a while. How are you?”

You smiled at him and took a small step back. “I’m alright. How are you? I see the store is thriving.” You pointed to the bright building across the street and your heart filled with warmth. You were proud of him and George for accomplishing so much.

“Yeah business is great. What about you? What are you doing here?” He looked around the street that was eerily quiet. Diagon Alley used to be bustling with so many people it was hard to walk around but now, it looked like you and Fred were the only two people on the street. “Before you answer that, let’s go talk in my office at the shop. It’s not a good idea to just linger around out here anymore.”

If he didn’t suggest it you would have. Diagon Alley was always a wonderful place to go before school. Going to Diagon Alley was really the start of the school year. You got to buy new books for classes and new robes and quills and ink and everything else. You saw friends you hadn’t seen in a while and heard about their summers. Now the street was empty and businesses were closed down. At the moment only Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes was the only store thriving. The bookstore was open for now but it wouldn’t be much longer before it was closed or ransacked too.

Fred led you towards his shop, eyes constantly scanning your surroundings. When you were almost at the store, a trash can knocked over and Fred shoved you behind him and pulled out his wand, pointing it towards the trash can. A small cat scampered out from behind it and while his and your body sagged with relief, your hearts were still pounding a million beats a minute. He quickly ushered you into the store and the difference between the feeling of the outside and the inside almost gave you whiplash.

It was bright and cheery and filled with students all trying to get their hands on new products. Wednesday was supposed to be one of the slower days but it was still packed to the brim. Fred put his hand on the small of your back and took you up a flight of stairs and to the back corner of the shop. Hidden amongst the shelves was a door the office hid behind. It was small with only a desk and three chairs but it was cozy and felt safe. He took a seat behind the desk and you sat opposite him.

“Well, now that we made it here without a scratch, tell me about how you’ve been. I had no idea you were even in the area. A lot of people have left.” He took off his coat and rolled up his sleeves and you were taking back to the Yule Ball and the first time you really set your eyes on him.

“I started working at Flourish and Blotts not long after school ended. It’s really just temporary. To be honest I don’t even know how long it will stay open. Everything is shutting down.” It was scary. You didn’t know what would happen at any minute of the day. Honestly you spent so much time watching Fred from afar not because you didn’t have a plan but because just seeing him brought so much comfort and peace. You didn’t know what you would do if that got messed up.

“Why haven’t you come to visit sooner? It would have been great to see you.” Fred smiled and leaned forward, resting his arms on the desk.

“Oh well I didn’t know when you were free or how busy you were.” You were lying through your teeth.

“I thought you would have, seeing how you came into the store every day for weeks.” What? You came in on your breaks the first couple of weeks when you moved, that was right but you kept to yourself and you thought you were sneaky. He saw you?

“I did? You know it's been a long time since I first got here and so much has changed.” Your hands were sweating and your heart was racing. What was happening?

“You’re right,” Fred looked out the window, his eyes landing on the destroyed shops that lined the street. “A lot has changed,” he turned back to you, “but you sure haven’t. I mean you’re still trying to move me around like a chess piece. Has it been hard trying to hatch this grand plan to get me? It's been three years, right?”

There was no coming back from this. He knew without a doubt what you had been doing for years and there was no way you could lie or pretend he didn’t. You just hoped he would at least be your friend still after this. You looked down at your lap and tried to keep the tears in as you finally confessed. “Yeah it’s been pretty hard. Fred, I’m so sorry. I don’t want you to think I was weird but I just didn’t know what to do. I saw you at the ball and I just had to have you but I had to know what you felt first. Then it just sort of became more of a plan to get you to like me. I understand if you hate me and I promise to leave you alone if you want me to.”

Fred was silent and after a few minutes, you found the will to look up at him. To your utter surprise, Fred was leaning back in his chair and watching you with a smirk. “Darling, I don’t mind at all. It was fun to see how far you would go. Impressive as well.”

Your mouth dropped open as you stared at him. “How long have you known?”

“Since you called me George at the Yule Ball. You always knew which one of us was which but somehow you didn’t as you stole me away from Angelina for a slow dance.” Fred laughed and leaned over the desk, putting his finger under your chin to close your mouth.

You blinked once, twice, three times before smacking his hand away. “You knew the entire time?” You laughed and shook your head. “You knew and you just let me go around thinking I was playing you like a game of chess? You ass!” You burst into a fit of laughter along with Fred.

“Honestly,” Fred began as you both stopped laughing, “I was touched that you thought I was worth all of the hard work. Not as touched that you thought you were pulling the wool over my eyes while using my brother to help you.”

You covered your face with your hands and groaned, sliding down in the chair. “I hate you, Fred Weasley.” You peaked out from behind your hands and found him watching you with an adoring smile. “So you really don’t hate me for all of this?”

“If I hated you and didn’t enjoy this, I would have stopped you as soon as you put that Amortentia under my nose.” He grabbed your hands and pulled them away from your face, grasping them tightly in his. “Now that you know that I knew your grand scheme this whole time, how about I treat you to lunch? I’ve been planning this meal for three years.”

“I suppose but under one condition.” You sat up and leaned over the desk. “You have to kiss me. I’ve been wanting to kiss you for three years and I haven't because you let me play this game. I only think it's fair.”

Fred tapped his finger on his chin, humming. “I think I can get behind that.” He stood and cupped your cheek in his hand, bringing his lips down to yours. It was everything you dreamed of. His lips were soft and gentle and he tasted like honey and a hint of Butterbeer. All too soon he pulled away.

“Hey, come back. I never told you I got three years worth from one kiss.” You smirked and he rolled his eyes, moving back in.

“What a mastermind," he mumbled before his lips found yours.