#and i’m sure a few of them will be from the list of resignations back in july because. well. it’s the tories

[vordemtodgefeit]

[calcifiedunderland]

Pride and Prejudice: A TWSTed AU

The Keeper of the Underworld: I. Shroud

Introduction, or Pick another route!

Idia x GN Reader (they/them)

Warnings: P&P-level angst and miscommunication, some cringe dialogue, parties, possibly ooc Idia, I wrote this before playing Book 6 so I apologize if there’s any inconsistencies

Notes: The level of overthinking I put into these fics is unreal 💀 First and foremost, thank you all for your patience!! Idia was hard to write, but I hope you enjoy, shrimpies~

———

Well this is certainly something, you thought. Of all the things you’d witnessed at NRC, (even overblots), you didn’t think you’d ever see Idia Shroud at one of Kalim’s parties.

You sipped on your drink when a shock of bright blue flames came in the corner of your eye, contrasting the orange-red of Scarabia. Kalim lead Idia into the dorm, bright and sunny, compared to the look on Idia’s face. Poor guy couldn’t even escape, because Cater and Rook ambled in behind him, chatting happily.

It was like the beginning of a joke: A sultan, a card soldier, a huntsman, and a blue flame-headed gamer walk into a room.

Kalim spotted you and grinned, grabbing Idia’s hoodie sleeve and dragging him over too. “Hey (name)! I’m glad you could make it!”

You smiled at the Scarabia Housewarden, “Thanks Kalim! I-“ At that moment, Jamil reached him to drag him away, mumbling exasperatedly to Kalim about being careful. Kalim laughed Jamil off, “sorry (name)! I’ll see you later, okay?” “Alright then…” you trailed off and turned to Idia, who looked like a deer in headlights.

“So…” you rocked on your heels. To be honest, you didn’t know how to approach him sometimes. Sure, you’d gamed with him a few times (with heavy insistence from Ortho) and you weren’t on his ‘avoid at all costs’ ranking list, but Idia did have his odd moments. Some days, you two would get along like a house on fire. Other times, it was like Idia hated you - avoiding you even in tablet-mode, and ghosting your chats.

You’d like to think that your more friendly moments were the ones that Idia counted, but sometimes it was hard to get a read on the guy.

“I didn’t know that you’d be at Kalim’s party today. I thought Ortho said there was an event in… um…?” You finished, cringing at your vagueness. You might not have known much about the game he played, even though he’d made you play it when you came over to Ignihyde, but you knew he probably didn’t want to be here of all places.

Idia’s hair flared a bit, and he looked resigned and moody. He pulled out his tablet. Ya, the event dropped today but I got mobbed by kalim + the extroverts. “That sucks,” you said, “I got dragged here by Ace. Still, it’s nice to see you.” In the oil lamp lighting, you could’ve sworn Idia’s hair turned a bit pink.

You were both silent, and you opened your mouth to speak when Lilia yelled out from the front, “let’s get this party started!” Kalim started drumming wildly, and then electric guitar swelled. Lilia began screaming heavy-metal-style into the mic. Around you, everyone started dancing, and even you found yourself moving to the rhythm.

You glanced at Idia every now and again, but he looked vaguely annoyed and tired despite the liveliness. He looks so over it, you thought. Probably since Kalim maybe dragged him here. You looked around, biting your lip when you noticed your friends having a grand old time on the dance floor, and kind of wanted to go too. Still, it wasn’t every day you saw Idia, and you wanted to do something with him. Especially since he was… well, here.

“So, Idia…” Idia’s eyes snapped to yours, dull. You rocked back on your feet, “do you dance?” Idia rolled his eyes, and you felt your heart sink, for some reason. Obvi not, id probs distract everyone anyway. And also id just rather not if I can help it. Your smile wavered, “c’mon Idia, anyone can dance, even if it’s not good!” Idia typed rapidly into the tablet, i mean ur not wrong. Like literally anyone can dance but ppl only do it bc its wat normies do.

You opened your mouth, then squared your shoulders, words failing you. Idia shoved a hand into his pockets and opened an app on the tablet, scrolling. You swayed for a bit, feeling awkward while Idia kept his eyes glued to the screen, a frown creasing his brows. Finally you shrugged your shoulders, trying to shake that sinking-feeling off.

You stepped into the crowd of dancing people, swaying to the music and trying not to look over at the blue flames swaying in the corner. Unknowing to you, Idia glanced up from his tablet every few minutes, trying to catch a glimpse of you, before trudging back to the cold chrome of Ignihyde, back to his dorm.

———

Ugh, could this get any worse?

Idia flopped onto his bed, shoving his headphones on and opening the mobile game on his phone. Not only did he get a late start on the game event, but he flubbed a chance to talk to you. Even if you did want to dance like all the other non-introverts at Scarabia. Thank Sevens Ortho didn’t know he missed his chance, otherwise the little robot would’ve torn Idia apart.

Idia shut his eyes and went over the details. Doing this IRL was trash-tier. Why couldn’t this just be a good-old-fashioned otome game, or romance anime? First you meet the love interest, then you find things they’re into, then you talk to them more. Then finally you confess, and cue the outro. He’d watched countless shojo and romance anime’s, and that was the basic outline. Eventually, the ethereal, gorgeous, smart, kind protagonist (aka you) would fall in love with their love interest (aka him) and it would all work out. Boom. Happily ever after.

Ah, yes. He could see it now.

Cherry blossom petals rained around both of you. Where are they coming from, this campus doesn’t grow cherry blossoms? Whatever, don’t question it. Anyway, the petals fluttered past your beautiful, sparkling eyes as you stared up at Idia with adoration and love. Idia stared down at you with full-rizz, kabedoning you against the wall.

“Oh, Idia-senpai!” You’d cry, eyes turning into hearts as sparkles and pink flower petals surround you both. “You’re so cool and not cringe at all! I could never want one of those normies! You’re the only one for me! Please date me!” And then Ortho would set off the heart-shaped fireworks and you two would finally kiss-kiss-fall-in-love, just like the popular anime Our High School Has A Host Club And The Leader Falls In Love With Me?!

“Whee hee hee…” Idia stared off into the distance, giggling ominously to himself and hair turning pink at the ends. His character on the screen went into idle mode, and he didn’t even hear when Ortho floated into the room. “Big brother?” Ortho gently tapped him on the shoulder, yanking him from his shojo daydream. Idia jumped, hair flaring. “AAAIIIIEEEE-“ Ortho jumped back, eyes wide but not detecting any signs of injury on Idia.

Idia breathed heavily, wide-eyed. “Ortho! Wh-when did-? I wasn’t-!” Ortho analyzed his heart beat, noting that Idia had traces of blush on his cheeks and his erratic behavior pointed to- “Were you thinking about (name) (last name)?” Ortho asked innocently, his theory proven when Idia flushed and went pinker. The younger boy suddenly got an idea.

“You know, (Name)’s heart rate goes up when they interact with you,” Ortho watched his brother’s eyes widen, “even when you’re not there, when you’re mentioned, their heart rate increases by 45% and they are more likely to be in a positive mood. 82% of the time, they regard you in a positive way.” His eyes lit up happily with realization, “If my calculations are correct, they have feelings for you!”

Idia sat there, thinking. What were the odds you would like him back? Sure, you made him happy, and more importantly made Ortho happy. And it was actually nice talking to you. And he never felt exhausted after interacting with you. And maybe you did enjoy the artificial light of Ignihyde to the spring sun above, and maybe you would like being with dreary, nerdy him.

Ortho could see his brother lost in thought, noting that Idia’s heart rate spiked when he mentioned you. “I also overheard them telling Grim about finding a partner,” he said casually, omitting that you’d been wanting a partner in Alchemy, and not necessarily a romantic partner.

That seemed to fire Idia up. Ortho could see the metaphorical cogs in Idia’s brain turning, an entire blueprint of a plan being made in his mind. At last, a wide cunning grin spread on his face, and he opened his arms, “well, who else but a genius could be partners with the MC?” He said arrogantly, “it’s not like just anybody can woo the protagonist!”

Ortho beamed, cheering, “all you need to do now is confess!” Idia immediately began sweating, freezing up. “H-huh?!”

——

You frowned at your textbook, rubbing your temples as you read through the alchemy procedure. Ugh, this couldn’t get any more confusing.

As you turned to begin writing, the door burst open. You flinched and immediately locked eyes with a frazzled Idia. His golden eyes were wide, and he was panting - he even looked sweaty. Somehow his blue fire hair seemed just as frazzled as him, looking pale-blue in shock. Could flames somehow look poofy?

“Prefect!” He squeaked. “Idia?” You questioned, what’s he doing here? It was odd that he’d be out of his room at six in the afternoon, not to mention he looked afraid of you. It wasn’t like you were a stranger, even though as of late, he treated you like one.

He stared at you from the door for an uncomfortable amount of time, then sped-walked to stand in front of you. You looked up at him from your seat, tapping your fingers. You awkwardly asked “do you wanna sit down?” He shook his head quickly, the ends of his hair were turning pink. You frowned, “…dude, are you okay?”

Idia flinched. He pivoted on his heel, “no, no, can’t do it, not today-“ he scuttled out of the room and slammed the door, screeching to himself and pulling his hood over his head. You stared at the door, vaguely hearing Idia freaking out to… was that Ortho? You heard the little robot boy’s voice through the door, probably calming Idia down, along with an odd spraying sound.

It went quiet and you assumed they’d left. Whatever, weirder things have happened at NRC. As you went back to writing, the door slammed open again. You jumped, heart beating wildly. Idia stormed over to you, hair blazing a trail behind him. He slammed his hands down on the desk, and your eyes watered with the scent of overpowering cologne bodyspray.

“Prefect! I need to tell you something!” Idia’s eyes steeled in determination, and he looked you dead in the eye. He was breathing heavily, and his flamed hair blazed and curled more than usual, turning deep pinkish-red near the ends. The last time you saw his hair similar to that, was when he was rage-playing during one of your gaming sessions. How pissed is he? You felt your heart leap into your throat.

“Idia,” you began, freaked out, “I think you should sit down-“ Idia blazed on, “this is honestly a horrible decision for you and definitely for me. I don’t even want to think about what Mother and Father would say, not to mention how this’d affect Styx.” He was tunnel visioning now. “Plus you don’t even have magic and this might not even work out anyway ‘cause I don’t see us working out TBH…” Slowly his hair began fizzling out, voice getting quieter and quieter as he mumbled to himself.

This was a terrible idea, Idia realized. After everything that had happened with Styx, not to mention everything you had to deal with personally, it wouldn’t be good to get involved with him. You could be in danger, especially as a non-magic user. No, it would be selfish of him to ask you to be with him. Why would you, anyway? There were other guys at NRC, not to mention the entire Sage’s Island, who would be a better fit for not. Especially ones who didn’t kidnap your friends and Grim. Especially someone like Idia.

No, he concluded. He shouldn’t have come.

You frowned deeply. “Idia, what…?” Your alchemy work definitely wasn’t done yet and Idia was making zero sense. He sighed, as if tired all of a sudden. “Nope, no… this isn’t going to work.” He stood abruptly and sped-walked out the door, brushing past Ortho. You overheard the boy try to get his brother to come back, but Idia didn’t stop. You could feel your heartbeat in your ears. So that’s what this is about? Idia didn’t want to be friends with you anymore? All because you weren’t… what? A tech whiz? Good at gaming? Magical? Your heart dropped. Because you were just too different from him? So you weren’t good enough to be even friends with him?

Your eyes stung at the thought. Fine. If Idia wanted to be that way, then fine. You shoved your books into you bag and headed back to Ramshackle. You doubted you’d be able to focus, anyway.

———

Poor Ortho was confused.

After running simulation after simulation, scouring the Internet for any clues, and piecing together what Idia said after running out of the classroom, he just couldn’t understand what happened. That was a first, considering it was Ortho.

Idia had ran out of the room in a hurry, mumbling incoherently. “Brother! What’s happening?” Ortho flew to him, scanning his vitals. Idia seemed to be ok, but his brother seemed… strangely melancholic. “Ortho, it won’t work out,” he said dejectedly, not wanting to talk about it.

Ortho called after him, trailing behind “What did (name) (last name) say? There was a high probability they’d accept your-” Idia sighed in exasperation, shaking his head. “It won’t work. I should’ve never left the dorm…” As Idia trudged back to Ignihyde, Ortho was left with more questions.

He hovered for a moment, before heading back to the alchemy room for you, only to not find you there. Ortho thought hard, thinking back to what Idia said. ‘It won’t work out,’ was what he said - not a flat-out rejection from you. So that meant…

He began floating back to Ignihyde, determined. I can still save this!

———

You were taking overthinking to a new level.

You bit your lip, staring at the game’s chatbox in front of you. Idia was online, and probably didn’t realize you were too. You leaned against the Heartslabyul common room couch (curse Ramshackle’s lack of internet!), and hit send.

Hey is everything ok??

You watched Idia’s game icon immediately switch to “online less than 1 minute ago,” and groaned.

Cater exited the kitchens, leaning over the couch back. “Hey~ what’s got my fave frosh so worked up?” He chirped, looking at your phone. “Ohh, isn’t that the popular game that’s been trending? Wait, didn’t you say Idia got you into it?” Cater immediately had his phone in hand, “that’s supes adorable, playing with friends is so fun-“

You cut him off, throwing your hands up, “that’s it! Idia just doesn’t want to talk to me! He- he just-!” You grabbed a throw pillow and smashed your face into it, groaning. Cater patted your shoulder sympathetically, “well, we’re playing at another one of Kalim’s parties tonight, you want in?” You sniffed dramatically, thinking. “Well, I guess. Sure, why not?”

Later that evening, you stepped into the Scarabia mirror. You and Cater made your way to the food table. As you both munched on Jamil’s cooking (damn, the guy made a good curry), you watched everyone dancing. “Y’know, it was weird seeing Idia at a party,” you commented, while Cater nodded. “Yeah! We decided to bring him along that day, it was fun seeing him.”

You sighed, “yeah, it was, but… it’s not really often that we can hang out in person. I kinda wanted to dance with him last time, but he sort of… blew me off? I guess maybe it wasn’t the best idea.” You winced, while Cater’s eyebrows rose. “You didn’t tell me that. So, he did that and also told you he didn’t want to be friends?” You nodded, frustration flooding back, “Yeah! And I just don’t understand how he can be so conceited about him being so high and smart, and not like me because I don’t-“

“Prefect,” Cater cleared his throat. You looked up mid-rant, meeting Ortho’s eyes, and jumped. He just snuck up on you both like it was nothing. Did he hear you? Hopefully he wouldn’t be mad. In your mind, Idia started it.

“Hello (name) (last name)!” Ortho said pleasantly, so you assumed he hadn’t heard you. Great. “I didn’t know you’d be here! What a coincidence!” That was a lie, Ortho overheard you and Cater talking about the party when you were walking to Scarabia. He absolutely knew. And he dragged Idia here because of it.

“Yep,” you smiled at Ortho, “it’s nice to see you.” Ortho mentally readied himself and remembered every bit of acting advice Vil gave him. “I almost forgot!” His eyes widened, while your eyes narrowed. Ortho was a robot. He didn’t forget shit. “Big brother is here, and he wanted to ask you to dance!” What? Your neck snapped around, looking for Idia’s bright blue hair. Cater elbowed you, bringing you back to reality.

“I-well, I- had not-“ you stammered, fumbling for an excuse. Ortho’s eyes shone at you like puppy eyes, and your anger at Idia cracked. “…yeah, sure,” you watched Ortho rise a bit in the air happily, “Yippee! I’ll go get him!” He zipped off, and you rubbed your temples. Cater twisted a strand of his hair, eyes wide. “Yikes…” “tell me about it,” you groaned.

A few minutes later, you both looked up when Kalim tapped the mic. You didn’t miss Ortho hovering a ways behind Kalim. “Hey everyone! Thanks for coming!” When the cheering died down, Kalim continued, “We’re gonna try something different! Everyone, find a partner and join the dance floor!”

Cater glanced at you, mischievous. “Welp, I can’t leave them hanging~ TTYL, Prefect!” And he left faster than you could say ‘Magicam.’ Sweet.

You hesitantly stepped to the dance floor, half expecting Ortho to float up to you and sheepishly tell you Idia left. Your mind drifted back to that day in the alchemy room. I guess it wouldn’t work, anyway.

To your surprise, a finger tapped your shoulder. You turned, seeing Idia with a with a flushed expression, wearing a casual-but-chic blazer. His hair looked a bit tamer than normal, and cascaded down his back in a low ponytail, bangs flickering over his forehead. Undoubtedly, this was the work of Ortho, who definitely got pointers from Vil.

You both stared at each other, unmoving, until slow music began playing. You averted your eyes. Idia gulped, eyes widening until waving caught his eye. Ortho was flying upwards a little ways away from the slowly-crowding dance floor, gesturing wildly at you. As if that wasn’t enough, he projected words above his head: DANCE WITH THEM!

Idia was lucky that everyone else was more interested in dancing with their partner than Ortho. His eyes snapped back to you, “s-so I guess you wanna-“ he swallowed thickly, eyes shifting to the dance floor. You shrugged, feigning nonchalance and looked ahead. Idia looked back at Ortho, who was pointing wildly at the words. He thought to himself, this is fine. It’s just the mandatory side quest. It’s not fighting the boss. It’s…

It’s charming the love interest. It’s solidifying your route!

Idia steeled himself and forced your hand into his. Your eyes shot to his in surprise, and he walked stiffly to the dance floor. Your hand clasped his, and you both swayed gently to the soft rock from the stage. Your brows furrowed, but Idia locked his gaze onto you, focusing only on you.

Yes, he thought. This is just the player’s pov on the screen, and he was only focusing on the love interest. The other waltzers didn’t exist. The party didn’t exist. It was just you and him.

Meanwhile, you were at a loss for words. While Idia seemed taciturn, you glanced up at the stage. Cater, Kalim, and Lilia were in their own little bubble jamming out, so that wasn’t a lifeline. After a little while of swaying with Idia, you hummed, “I haven’t seen you in a while. Since that day.” Idia’s hands felt clammy, and in the dimmed lights you saw a small pink dusting Idia’s cheeks. You saw him swallow heavily, but he didn’t say a word.

The tension grew between you two, and despite feeling hurt, you felt a little bad. Still, you wanted some answers out of Idia, after the incident in the alchemy room. “Y’know, you never used to be this… odd around me.” Was it the crowd that made him quiet, or… You felt a lump in your throat. Was it you?

Idia’s eyebrows shot up, thinking fast on what to say. Why can't conversations irl have ready-made dialogue?! “I… we c-can talk about wh-whatever you want? I guess?” He tried, kicking himself internally for leaving his tablet with Ortho. You bit the inside of your cheek as you stepped with him, that’ll do for now. “Scarabia parties are a little much, but they’re more pleasant than the Pomefiore mock balls,” you tried “wouldn’t you say?” After an uncomfortable pause, expecting a reply, you mumbled to yourself, “I guess we can stop talking now.”

“...is it like a rule for normies to chat while dancing? Isn’t the act of moving enough?” Idia mumbled in exasperation, hand tightening a little on your own. You bit your lip, your eyes burning. “No, I prefer to not talk to my friends at all and tell them we can’t be friends. It’s so much fun, right?” Idia’s eyes widened, and he scrambled for words, “I- I didn’t mean…” You stopped swaying abruptly, both of your clasped hands in the air. “Why are you here, Idia?”

A chill went through Idia. “T-To be honest, I didn’t even want to come to this stupid IRL dance,” he rushed out, “TBH Ortho had to make me come ‘cause he told me you’d be here-“ “You didn’t want…?” You cut Idia off, heart dropping. The other dancing couples swirled around you, but all the commotion around you felt like nothing more than idle chatter. Hurt flashed in your eyes, and Idia seemed shocked, which made you angry.

“I guess you wouldn’t want to be friends with someone who’s magicless, especially since you have STYX right?”

Idia’s eyes were wider than the Heartslabyul tea saucers. For once, he didn’t have a smart-ass reply. “Um, what? Obvi, I’m kind of stuck with STYX-” You let go of his hand and took a step back, almost bumping into a waltzing couple. “Yeah, wouldn’t want me to mess things up. Make any bad decisions and all that, right?” You felt your eyes water, despite yourself.

Furiously balling a fist and wiping your eyes, “Since you said we wouldnt work out n’stuff.” Idia suddenly remembered everything he’d muttered to himself, from the moment he’d stormed into the room to when he’d left dejectedly. When he’d made his choice and left before you could even get your word in.

Like a coward.

Idia’s heart pounded but shakingly, he reached a hand out to you. “P-prefect, I-I-!” You dodged the crowd, and ran out of Scarabia. You didn’t look back until you crashed through Ramshackle’s door, raced up the stairs, and fell onto your bed, Grim yelping in surprise as you tried your darndest to forget everything that just happened.

Back in Scarabia, Idia somehow stumbled off the dance floor, staggering to a table and breathing heavily. Mentally he replayed everything that just happened. Ortho floated over to him, “Brother? I don’t understand, why would (name) (last name) not accept your feelings?” Ortho went over the footage when he was observing you both dancing, and frowned.

“My senses indicate that based on their body language, they were upset with you. What happened?” Idia swallowed heavily, “I-I said it wouldn’t work out between us c-cuz they don’t have magic,” he stammered, eyes wide, “a-and STYX and-...” Ortho’s eyes widened, then narrowed, “That shouldn’t be a problem! You know that!”

“I meant for them, Ortho.” Idia sighed heavily, sinking into the chair. “I don’t want them to get hurt. Not when…” his mind wandered to Ortho, before NRC. He fell into deep thought. “In the end, I couldn’t even tell them...” He frowned deeply.

Ortho fell quiet, computing. Idia stared at the table, dejected, until Ortho spoke. “You know (Name) (lastname) doesn’t back down easily from a challenge.” That’s true. From playing games with Idia to taking down overblots, you weren’t someone who ran away when it mattered. Maybe that’s why Idia liked you - you were like the protagonists in animes, who found a way to make the world their own.

“You shouldn’t make (name) (last name)’s decision for them.” Idia looked up at his brother. Ortho continued, head angling to the side, Idia shook his head dejectedly, “it won’t work-”

“Your lil’ bro is right, y’know,” Cater walked over, shaking his hair out with his guitar slung over his shoulder. “Sry, I overheard you two,” Cater could piece together what happened. He did see you blow up at Idia (although he couldn’t hear you), and after spamming your phone with no reply after you ran out, now he had an idea of what was going on. “Y’know, if you didn’t tell them how you felt, then how could you know you were making the right choice?”

Idia looked down. Ortho piped up, “Cater Diamond is right.” Idia shut his eyes, then stood up, hands tightening into fists. Cater jumped back as Idia’s hair flared up bright blue, and the Ignihyde housewarden headed straight to the exit. Ortho called out, “thank you, Cater Diamond!” and floated after Idia, “Brother! Wait!”

“Lets go, Ortho,” Idia’s golden eyes steeled in determination, “I can fix this.”

—----

A knock on the door jolted you from your reading of Prejudice and Pride.

It was early morning. Somehow, even though it was the weekend and you’d stayed up all night, you still woke up at an ungodly early hour. After being unable to fall asleep (totally not because of Grim’s snoring and sleep-munching) you decided to go to your living room and read. You were sure that you didn’t have a guest coming, so why would…?

You got up and opened the door, expecting Ace or Deuce or something. The annoyed look on your face turned to shock when you saw Idia standing on your porch. In one hand, he held a bouquet of pomegranate-red roses and some flowers you recognized to be asphodel.

You both stared at each other, unwilling to move. “Idia,” you breathed, “why are you here?” Idia shuffled awkwardly, “I wanted to see you.” You crossed your arms, looking around. “Where’s Ortho?” You were sure the little robot boy made his brother come. Otherwise, why would Idia be here? Idia rubbed the back of his neck, “Ortho isn’t here. I… I wanted to see you,” he repeated.

Wordlessly, he thrust the flowers into your arms, and you wrapped your arm around it instinctively. “I- um,” you looked everywhere but Idia, who was staring at the Ramshackle doorway. “Idia,” you cleared your throat, “about what happened-” “Prefect, I… I wanted to apologize.” Your eyes widened, but Idia continued.

“I… I didn’t mean what I said that day.” Idia looked bashful, face turning pink and the ends of his hair turning a deep blush. He kept talking, rambling on and fighting he urge to grab his tablet and let the device speak for him. “I… really like being friends with you.” The words came out quietly from him, and even though he looked like he wanted to sink into his hoodie, Idia didn’t shirk away.

A lump rose in your throat as you didn’t make eye contact with him, instead playing with the flower bouquet, “I like being friends with you too,” you bit your lip, rubbing an asphodel petal, “I like you, Idia.”

Idia’s eyes widened and went rigid. Both his face and his hair went deep pink. Your own eyes widened at the color, and you felt your face grow hot. So that’s what it meant…? Not anger…?Wordlessly, without thinking, you dropped the bouquet. Your body moved on its own, and you flung yourself at Idia, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and squeezing your eyes shut.

Idia staggered back from the momentum with a squeak, but wrapped his arms around your torso with an iron grip. You gripped his hoodie tightly, finally understanding what had gone on for so long. Your cheek was pressed against his, and despite the early morning chill, you both felt warm.

High above, Ortho hovered in the distance over the tree canopies from afar. He zoomed in on you and Idia, and behind his face mask, he beamed. In midair, he did a heart-shaped loop-de-loop in happiness, and hovered back to Ignihyde.

After a few minutes, you leaned back in Idia’s arms, the both of you chuckling in happy disbelief. You looked up and saw a little blue streak leaving a smoke trail of a heart, and laughed to yourself. Idia turned around, seeing his brother above, a soft reminiscent look on his face.

“…guess Ortho was right.”

~END

——-

Fun fact: the beginning is inspired by idia’s school uniform vignette!!!

Me, while writing this: wow Idia and Cater’s dialogue are unique, they’d be hard to write

Also me: *puts both of them in this fic and suffers*

Writing Idia was SO HARD but I hope I managed to get him right-ish. Trying to balance his reactions with the dialogue was hard 😭

anyway thanks for reading~ please leave a comment/reblog!! <3

Taglist: @cerisescherries, @eclecticprincecollector, @ars-tral, @thehollowwriter, @twst-eeps, @casperandcats, @ttokkisbee, @mitsuriswaifu, @parad-ice-lostandfound, @sad-sie, @moyo5653

(If your user is in bold, I wasn’t able to tag you properly)

[elizabethwritesmen]

i don’t want you like a best friend

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Pairing: College!Steve Harrington x Reader ALSO Ghostface!Steve x Witch!Reader (costumes)

Summary: You’re in Indiana for college. You just happen to be roommates with Steve Harrington’s best friend, Robin. This is a list of the times you bumped into him, starting with July move in day and ending with a friend’s Halloween party.

Warnings/Notes (PLEASE READ) : SMUT 18+, pining, friends to lovers, Robin being intrusive, Robin’s parents also being intrusive, angst, Halloween if ur into that, ghostface!Steve x Witch!reader (costumes obv), also if ur name is Grace this isn’t the fic for you just trust me on this, this is semi-modern I don’t mention time periods at all but I also made no attempt at historical accuracy so do with that what u will. it’s all make believe it doesn’t rlly matter imo. also this is a college au so I made up college friends for them! ALSO i have plans for another halloween fic, a super spooky super sexy one, but it will go up late prob sometime in late. november because i’ve put all my energy into this one and staying alive lol. enjoy! <3

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•Move In Day

I stared blankly at the boxes in front of me. The U-Haul I’d rented was jam packed with furniture and all of my belongings, leaving barely enough room to breathe.

For some reason, I thought it would be easy. I thought I could girl-boss it, get it done, all in a few hours’ work. Clearly I was temporarily insane when I came to that conclusion. Oh, well. Now I didn’t have a choice.

I sucked in a deep breath before resigning myself to my fate and starting.

I carried in the lightest stuff first, wanting to get it out of the way. I figured once I got through all the heavy stuff, I wouldn’t have any energy left for it, so might as well do it first. I got about four boxes upstairs, and I was bringing up a fifth and sixth, when I noticed the door already opened. I was sure I had shut it.

I walked in to see a girl and a guy, both around my age. She was dancing around, placing boxes of her own on the other side of the room. I cleared my throat gently, placing my boxes on the rest of my things.

She snapped out of her trance and her eyes landed on me. As did those of the guy she was with.

“Oh, hi!” She smiled brightly, “You just be my roommate!”

“Must be,” I sent her a polite smile in return, but mine was a lot more shy and reserved, “I’m Y/N.”

“I’m Robin, and this is my best friend Steve,” she introduced, “He’s helping me get all my things up here.”

“Oh, nice to meet you both. Let me know if I can help with anything!” I offered.

“Oh no, that’s fine, I’m sure you have your hands full! Are your parents here helping you?”

“No, just me. I’m new here, so… I don’t really have anyone,” I shrugged, preparing to head back downstairs when she stopped me.

“Hey, wait!”

I turned around, staring at her expectantly, eager to get back to carrying my boxes upstairs. I didn’t want to be rude, but.. there were so many.

“My parents will be here soon to help me, so why don’t you steal Steve?”

“Oh,” I stuttered, looking to Steve, “I couldn’t ask you to help me. Really, it’s fine, I can get it.”

“It’s no trouble,” he shrugged, “I’d like to. I’d hate for you to have to carry everything up by yourself. Besides, any roommate of Robin’s is a friend of mine.”

I breathed out a little chuckle and nodded, “If you insist.”

He followed me to the elevator, pressing the button for me and walking on after me. I expected awkward silence but there was none, he didn’t allow a single lull between his questions. He wanted to know everything, where I was from, what made me choose the school, what kinds of things I was into.

“Do you go here, too?” I asked him as we approached the U-Haul.

“Yes, I moved in yesterday. Robin helped me get everything to my dorm, but I’m on the first floor, so it was super easy. I figured I should help her anyway, though, even though she doesn’t need it.”

“She might not need it, but extra help is always appreciated. Or any help.”

“Is that your way of thanking me for helping you?”

“Well, it was either that or bake you a cake and there isn’t an oven in the dorm.”

“Raincheck on the cake, then,” he chuckled.

We talked the entire way back up, and I was shocked at how easy it came. I didn’t expect to click so well with him, and I silently prayed it’d be the same with Robin.

“There you two are,” she smiled as we walked back in, “Did he talk your ear off?”

“No,” I shrugged, “He talked the normal amount.”

“Yeah, the normal amount for a 6 year old on a road trip.”

Their dynamic was nice. They picked on each other, sure, but it was all friendly.

On the second trip down, Steve told me about his life. His high school experience, his hobbies, his hair. His friendship with Robin. I couldn’t tell whether or not there was something more than friendship there. I couldn’t help the small part of me that hoped not, Steve was really handsome and the nicest person I’d met in a while. But I definitely didn’t want to overstep any boundaries, and I was much too shy to ask. Besides, a guy like him probably wouldn’t want anything to do with me anyway.

By the time we got back up to the dorm, Robin’s parents were there.

“Oh hello,” her mom smiled, “You must be the roommate! Y/N, right?”

“Yes ma’am,” I responded.

“Well I’m Robin’s mom, Melissa, and this is her Dad, Richard. It’s so nice to meet you! Oh, you’re just so pretty!”

“Thank you,” I grinned, a little overwhelmed with how nice the woman was being. She was pretty, much like Robin, and she’d aged well. But she also had a warmth about her that was comforting, welcoming even.

An hour later, they had all of Robin’s things up and unpacked. They didn’t even ask if I wanted help finishing up, they just got to work, carrying the last of my things up with Steve and beginning to open boxes.

“You guys really don’t have to do all this,” I mumbled, sheepishly. I always felt awful accepting help, overwhelmed with gratefulness to the point of guilt.

“Oh, hush!” her mom laughed, “We want to!”

It only took another hour to have everything in its place, and we all stared proudly at our handiwork.

“Thank you all so much for your help,” I smiled at the group.

“Of course!” Mr. Buckley patted me on the back, his grin charming, “And if you ever need anything else, you call us! Now, how about we all go get something to eat? I think we’ve worked up enough of an appetite!”

I at first assumed I wasn’t invited because, well, it’s Robin’s family and Steve has apparently been her best friend for years so he’s basically family too. I was new in all this and definitely didn’t expect to be having dinner with all of them. But when they all walked towards the door and I hung back, everyone turned to me, matching confusion on their faces.

“Come on,” Robin chuckled, “You think we’re gonna let you starve after all the work we just did?”

And just like that, we all piled into Mrs. Buckley’s car. I was squished in the middle between Robin and Steve. I wanted to give her the middle because she was so small, but she told me she would feel carsick from Steve’s cologne and she’d rather have the window seat.

“What’re you kids in the mood for?” Mrs Buckley asked.

“It doesn’t matter,” Steve responded, and Robin and I agreed.

“I think there’s a barbecue joint a few miles down the road, let’s stop there,” Mr Buckley decided, turning to the back seat, “I know Robin and Steve like that, but is it okay with you, Y/N?”

“Of course,” I nodded, still shocked to be included in the dynamic.

Mrs Buckley almost missed the driveway to the restaurant and she slammed on her brakes and turned in at the last second, throwing me gracelessly into Steve, my seatbelt the only thing keeping me off his lap. He caught me swiftly as he himself hit the door, making sure I didn’t hurt myself in the commotion.

I risked a glance at him to see his eyes peering into mine, concerned and a bit discombobulated from the startle of it all.

“You okay?” he asked, and I nodded, staring down at his arm that was still around me. He cleared his throat, setting me upright in my seat as we pulled into a parking spot.

I turned to Robin, taking note of the huge smirk on her face. She was looking past me, eyes on Steve. Must’ve been some kind of inside joke I wasn’t part of yet.

We all walked inside together, and the hostess sat us at a booth, pulling an extra chair up to the end of it. I went to sit in it when Robin stopped me.

“Remember what I said about Steve’s cologne? And I get claustrophobic. You’d better sit by him, I’ll take the extra chair.”

I nodded slightly, sliding into the booth and letting Steve slide in beside me. I didn’t understand what the big deal was about his cologne, it wasn’t that strong. It was subtle but sweet, cinnamon overwhelming my senses and filling me with a warmth and comfort I craved. The kind of cologne that, when someone passes you wearing it, you stop and take a deep breath in, soak it up for all it’s worth.

Robin’s mom and dad, and Robin herself, were all giving Steve that strange smirk now, and I suddenly felt left out. I guess they were all in on the joke. Unlucky me.

We made small talk while we looked over the menus, picking what we wanted to eat.

“What’re you gonna get?” Steve asked, and I had to look up to realize his question was just for me. Robin and her parents were talking amongst themselves, completely ignoring us.

“I don’t know, probably just chicken fingers. I’m picky when I try new places.”

“Lame,” he tapped me in the ribs and joked, and I squirmed against his touch.

“It’s not lame! It’s a classic!”

“Let me guess, macaroni on the side?” he raised a brow, and I stared sheepishly at my lap, causing him to chuckle, “You’re pretty predictable, Grace.”

“That’s not my name,” I furrowed my brows at him.

“It’s a nickname. You know, Grace. ‘Cause you fell on me in the car. It’s irony.”

“Giving me nicknames already? My, how our friendship is growing,” I rolled my eyes, “If only it wasn’t such a rude one.”

“You can give me a rude one, too,” he offered, and I thought it over for a moment.

“Okay,” I nodded, “Box Boy.”

“Box Boy?”

“Yeah, cause you brought in all my boxes.”

“That’s the best you got?”

“It probably won’t stick, but I like it for now.”

“What’re you two whispering about?” Robin cut into our conversation, wiggling her eyebrows at us.

“It’s a secret, that’s why we’re whispering,” Steve deadpanned, and she snorted.

“Well, you two keep your secrets, and we’ll keep ours.”

“Fine by me, I have a feeling your secrets are pretty dark.”

I stifled a laugh, taking a long sip of my soda.

The rest of the dinner was full of happy chatting and getting to know each other. It turns out I got along really well with all of them, and I integrated well into the little group.

“You know, Y/N, I’m really happy you agreed to come eat with us,” Mrs Buckley told me as her husband handled the check.

“I’m just thankful you invited me! And paid for my food. Really, you didn’t have to!”

“Now stop with the bashfulness, you’re basically family now!”

With that, everyone stood. Steve helped me out of the booth and held the door open for me on the way out. It was sweet, in an old time kind of way. I fought off butterflies, and a crush that I felt coming a mile away.

Robin’s family dropped us off, and we stood outside talking for a few minutes.

“I’m gonna go inside and crash, but you two kids say your goodbyes,” she waved her hands at us and walked away, leaving us in silence.

“So…” I started.

“So…” he repeated.

“It was nice to meet you,” I offered.

“You, too.”

“Maybe I’ll see you again.”

“Hopefully.”

“Soon.”

“Yeah.”

I paused, not knowing what else to say. He was making no move to ask for my number, of course he probably wasn’t even interested like that anyway.

“Goodnight,” I smiled.

“Goodnight,” he repeated.

He stood for a moment and I stayed there, waiting for him to leave.

“I’m not going anywhere until I see you get inside safe.”

I giggled, “Yes sir.” And with that, I walked in.

The elevator ride to the fifth floor was long, but finally I was approaching my door, and I walked through it sleepily. I collapsed onto my bed, trying to ignore Robin’s staring.

“So…” she sighed, “You and Steve, huh?”

“Me and Steve what?”

“You guys have got it going on!”

“Have what going on?”

“Oh my God, Y/N, seriously, the sparks could’ve lit a cigarette. Did you give him your number?”

“He didn’t ask,” I shrugged, “Besides. I thought you guys were a thing.”

“I’m into chicks,” she rolled her eyes, “And even if I wasn’t, I still don’t know why you’d think that. I forced you to sit beside him the entire day. You think his cologne really bothers me that much? NO. I wanted you guys to… you know…. hit it off!!”

“Well, I think he’s a little out of my league,” I shrugged, sinking further into my sheets sadly.

“He absolutely is not. And I promise he’s into you. He’s just not the best with girls is all. He’ll have your number soon enough.”

“You’re not planning on giving it to him, right?”

“What? No! I’m gonna make the little shit ask you himself!”

“If he ever does.”

“He will.”

•First Day of Class

I walked into the lecture hall, brows furrowed, trying to make sure I was where I was supposed to be. Yes, room 208, I concluded.

It was a large room, but it wasn’t completely full. There were only about 20-30 people there total. I, of course, didn’t recognize any of them, so I took a seat away from everyone else. Nobody even spared me a glance, and I felt comfortable in my solitude, until the heavy door opened and shut behind me and a figure looked over me.

I looked up to see Steve, just as handsome as the first time I saw him. He was wearing a pair of joggers and a yellow sweatshirt, and he pulled off the comfy look well.

“Why are you sitting over here all alone?” he asked, one perfect eyebrow raised.

“I don’t know anyone,” I shrugged, and he scoffed.

“Well come sit by me and the guys from my dorm. I’ll introduce you.”

“I think I’d rather stay here.”

“Really?” I nodded slowly, “Then you leave me no choice.” He plopped down in the chair beside me, setting his things down and getting comfortable.

“What’re you doing?” I asked him.

“Well I’m not just gonna let you sit all alone.”

“But I like being alone,” I huffed, “Plus your friends miss you!” I gestured to the three guys staring holes through us.

He glanced in their direction and nodded, and that’s all it took for them to pile over to us.

“Stevie! My man! You gonna introduce us to your lovely friend?” One of them asked as he took the seat in front of us. He held his hand out for me to shake and I took it carefully, sighing.

“This is Grace.“

“That’s not my name!” I groaned.

“Then what is your name?” the tallest of the guys asked.

“Y/N.”

“Cute,” he winked at me, and Steve rolled his eyes sharply. “Y/N, this is Tate, Drew and Johnny.”

They all greeted me kindly and I responded in turn, but there wasn’t much time to talk before an older man walked in, an air of authority in his step.

“Hello, all. I’m Professor Chomsky, I’ll be teaching this course,” he began. What followed was a list of rules, regulations, class schedules, and lesson plans dull enough to make my forehead hit the desk in front of me.

“This is awful,” Steve whispered beside me, and the other guys nodded, “Another hour of his voice might kill me.”

“Shh!” I hissed at him, trying my best to focus on what the man at the front of the room was saying.

“Oh, get off it,” Steve smirked, “You’re just as bored as we are.”

“I’ll have you know I’m absolutely riveted!”

“Lying isn’t a good look, Grace.”

Just then, Tate chimed in, “Why do you call her Grace anyway if her name is Y/N?”

“It’s an inside thing,” Steve waved him off, “You wouldn’t get it.”

“Yeah, because calling me ‘Grace’ to make fun of me for being clumsy is such a hard joke to understand.”

“I don’t like your attitude today, Grace,” he furrowed his brows dramatically, and I couldn’t help giggling.

We were all interrupted by the sound of Professor Chomsky’s voice, booming at us to be quiet. We obeyed, whispering quietly every now and then but mostly hanging on by a thread to his monotonous words.

The class ended about a half hour later and Steve and I went our separate ways. We ended up having one more class together, and the guys were all in there, too, plus Drew’s girlfriend Natalie and Johnny’s sister Elaine. Robin as well. It was the most fun of all of them. It also happened to be my last class of the day. As it wrapped up and we all packed up our things, Steve stopped in front of my chair.

“Can I walk you back to your dorm?” he asked me.

“Sure,” I nodded with a smile, throwing my bag over my shoulder and following him out.

We chatted on the five minute walk. I found that I didn’t want it to end, but I hoped when it did, he would ask for my number. Or something, at least, to make me think he was interested. Part of me knew he wasn’t, though. Not as more than a friend.

“Here we are,” I sighed as we approached the doors.

“Yeah,” he nodded, “So… umm.. I’m happy we have those classes together. It’ll be nice to hangout every week.”

“Yeah, and we seem to have a good little group going. I like everyone a lot.”

“Everyone likes you a lot, too.”

I swayed on my toes, staring at him, waiting patiently. For what, I wasn’t sure.

“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow?” he proclaimed, his voice chipper. I nodded slowly. “You know the drill, I can’t leave until you’re inside safe.”

I rolled my eyes and gave him a dopey grin, walking in just as I had the last time.

• Hangout at Elaine’s Apartment

Days of hanging out with Steve in class passed slowly, and I soaked in every moment. I was trying desperately to keep what I felt at bay, but it proved difficult when he wanted to walk me home every day.

A month went by and it was Saturday. I woke up around noon, the week had been especially exhausting, and immediately started studying. Robin did the same, sitting at her desk beside me and rifling through her flash cards.

“How is it that he’s walked you home every single day and still not asked for your number?” she asked out of nowhere.

“Robin, we’re talking about biochem. Not Steve.”

“Believe me, Steve is a scientific anomaly, so it’s close enough.”

I rolled my eyes, “I don’t know, okay? It’s like I wait for him to make a move or something every day, but he never does.”

“Well isn’t there anything between you both? All the rest of us can see it!”

“There’s chemistry, or at least I thought there was, but now I’m sure it was just one sided. He’s just not into me like that.”

“Then why does he walk you home every single day and not me?”

“Well… you have another class after that so you couldn’t walk with us, and he probably just doesn’t want to walk that far twice a day.”

“You’re grasping at straws. The boy wants you.”

“Why are you so invested, anyway? It’s not that serious, Rob. We’re just friends, that’s fine with me.”

“I just…” she started, trying to form her words correctly, “Steve has never been good with girls. He had one girlfriend, in high school. She wasn’t the best. I mean, she was fine, and he was happy, but she hurt him and he.. well, the details don’t matter but anyway. He never really had luck with any other girls. He was always too caught up in something else. But now we’re out of that town and you can’t convince me that your coming into our lives was a coincidence. Steve deserves this, and I want him to have it. If he can just get out of his own way.”

“And if he can’t?”

“He will. Believe me. It’s just gonna take a big push.”

“I’d rather just be his friend than stress myself over it,” I shrugged, going back to my studying.

A couple hours later, Robin got a text from Steve telling her that everyone was hanging out at Elaine’s apartment and we should come.

“Wanna go?” she asked me.

“I don’t know, I have a lot of studying left to do,” I hesitated.

“I was only asking to be polite. We’re going,” she stated, grabbing my hand and pulling me to my closet. “And you’re not wearing those wrinkly old jeans and a baggy t shirt. Pick something cute.”

“I’m not really a ‘cute clothes’ girl.”

“Well, tonight, you are.” She looked through my closet, pulling out a yellow sundress I stole from my mom’s closet at some point in time. I had to admit, it was a beautiful dress.

“You’ll wear this with your white sneakers,” she instructed, leaving no room for argument so I just nodded. “Steve won’t know what hit him!”

“Honestly, he’s probably into Elaine.”

“Why do you think that?”

“She’s… well, she’s older. She’s smart, and beautiful, and she always dresses to impress. She’s just.. she’s got everything.”

“Yeah, that’s why I have a crush on her. But I promise Steve doesn’t.”

“Whatever you say.”

Before long, it was time to get ready. I put on a little makeup, just some mascara, blush, and lip gloss, and paired gold hoops and a gold charm bracelet with the dress, slipping on my sneakers and following Robin out the door.

We were supposed to meet Steve outside of his dorm. The plan was for him to drive us to Elaine’s. As we approached the parking lot, we saw him leaning against the driver’s door of his car. Elaine was right in front of him, and they were locked in what seemed like a deep conversation.

“What’s that all about?” Robin asked as we took a step or two closer. I stopped in my tracks, though, when Elaine leaned up and kissed him square on his lips.

My heart shattered into about a million pieces. It’s crazy how you never know how intense your feelings for someone are until they blow up in your face. Sure, it hadn’t been long since I met him, but everyone has had a crush that spiraled out of control way too quickly.

“Hey, love birds?” Robin called out, her voice accusing.

They broke apart, startled, and stared at us dumbly. No doubt Steve saw the hurt on my face, but I tried so hard to keep it at bay.

“Grace,” he started, making a move to walk over to me, but the scene was interrupted by the other 3 guys joining us.

“Okay, so how’s this gonna work?” Tate blurted as they approached, “I know Y/N and Steve always have to sit by each other, And Natalie will be on Drew’s lap in the back, so I’m assuming Robin is gonna squeeze in the back with us?”

“I’d rather ride on the hood,” she croaked.

“It’s fine,” I sighed, “I’ll ride in the back with you guys, Robin can sit up front.”

“Well, someone can ride with me,” Elaine offered, “And you’ll just have to ride uncomfortably on the way back instead of both ways?”

“I will,” Natalie offered, “Wanna join me, Drew? That way there’s room in Steve’s car for everyone?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, following her to Elaine’s vehicle.

“I still wanna sit in the back,” I shrugged, climbing into the middle and letting both boys climb on either side of me.

Steve stared into the car at me for a moment, fists clenched, before climbing in behind the wheel and pulling off.

The ride had the potential to be awkward, and if it wasn’t for Johnny and Tate, it would’ve been. They lightened the mood a lot. Between their jokes and banter, I felt comfortable a couple minutes in. It was only a ten minute drive, and it went by extra quick with them.

As Steve pulled in, the car lurched to the side and threw me onto Tate.

“Woah there, I see why Steve calls you Grace now,” he laughed as he helped me up. The spark I felt when it happened with Steve wasn’t there, but Steve didn’t know that, and he sent us a death glare through the rear view mirror.

Elaine pulled in right after us and lead us up a flight of stairs to an isolate apartment, quite large. It was a one bedroom two bathroom, but every room was huge.

“Mi casa es su casa,” she sighed as we walked in. “I’ve got drinks, card games, books to study, and lots of movies. Whatever you guys are into!”

“Let’s starts out with the drinks,” Johnny suggested, and everyone nodded.

Moments later, we all had a beer in our hands. Elaine suggested we save the liquor for after, and we agreed. We also all collectively decided we would play Cards Against Humanity until we were tipsy, and then we would watch a horrible movie together.

Music played from the radio in the background as we all settled into our spots for the night. Drew and Natalie on the bean bag chair, Johnny Tate and Robin piled onto the couch, and Elaine cozy in her recliner. That left only the loveseat for Steve and I, and I fought a scowl.

“Scoot over, Rob,” I gestured, but she refused.

“I wanna stretch out and be comfy! There’s plenty of room on the love seat!”

I rolled my eyes and flipped her off, walking begrudgingly to Steve and plopping down beside him.

“Is sitting by me really that bad of a thing?” he asked, and everyone stared at me, waiting for an answer.

“No, it’s fine. It’s just.. Robin was right. Your cologne is a lot.”

He almost looked hurt, but he shook it off as we started the game.

A few rounds in, Steve leaned back in his seat, accidentally shifting himself closer to me. I stared down at his leg, almost touching mine.

“You look nice tonight,” he mumbled so nobody but me could hear, “I’ve never seen you in something so… delicate before.”

“If you’re gonna compliment someone, it should be your girlfriend,” I shrugged off what he’d said and took a long swig of my beer.

“Girlfriend?” he furrowed his brows.

“You know. The girl you kissed.”

“Oh.” He stared at his lap. “Listen, Grace, that wasn’t -“

“I don’t want to hear it,” I shrugged, “Doesn’t matter to me. You guys are super cute together, I’m real happy for you.”

He looked taken aback but my tone told him he should let it go, and he did, taking a swig of his own beer and leaving me alone for the moment. The moment didn’t last long, though, because before long everyone was a little intoxicated from all the alcohol and his arm was resting on my shoulders. I couldn’t fight the way I fell into him, I could barely even fight the sleep.

“Movie time!” Elaine exclaimed, jumping up to find her favorite DVD. She picked a cheesy old scary movie that barely made sense, and we were all more than happy with it. Nobody wants to watch a good movie while they’re drunk. She settled back in as it began, munching on the snacks she’d brought out for everyone.

“Please talk to me,” Steve mumbled into my hair.

“Don’t want to,” I slurred out, closing my eyes and breathing him in. My actions didn’t match up with my words and I knew that, but I couldn’t help myself.

“Well then come here,” he sighed, grabbing me under my knees and pulling me into his lap. He rested me against his chest, holding me snugly, letting me get as cozy in him as I wanted. “Talk to me when you’re ready.”

If I’d been sober, I would’ve worried about cuddling with Elaine’s boyfriend right in front of her, but I wasn’t. I did spare her a glance, though, and she smiled at me. Strange. She didn’t seem to care at all.

“Shouldn’t you be snuggling with Elaine over there?” I whispered to him, my face nestled in the crook of his neck.

He pulled a blanket from beside the armrest and tucked it over me as he responded, “Let’s talk when we’re sober.”

“Wan’ talk now,” I hummed.”

“She’s not my girlfriend, Grace. The closest thing I have to a girlfriend is you.”

“But y’kissed her and you never kissed me,” I pouted. I don’t know whether my attitude came from sleepy delirium or intoxication.

“You’re right,” he nodded, leaving it at that.

“Y’could if you wanted to,” I breathed out as I drifted off into sleep.

I woke up in the passenger seat of the car. Robin was driving, and I looked around frantically for Steve before realizing I was in his lap.

“Oh, hi,” I mumbled.

“Morning, sunshine,” he smiled, “Go back to sleep. I’ll make sure you get in bed safe.”

“I don’t wanna go back to sleep,” I whined, leaning up.

I glanced in the back seat. Johnny was on one side, half asleep leaning on the window. Tate was in the middle, texting someone, and Drew was on the other side with Natalie passed out on his lap.

“Why’s Robin driving?” I asked curiously.

“He didn’t want you sleeping on anyone else,” she smirked at us.

“Oh,” I didn’t know what else to say to that.

He ran his hand through my hair, playing with the strands, twisting them between his fingers.

“That feels good,” I hummed, leaning into his touch.

“Yeah?” he asked as he kept going, tugging the strands a little harder.

“Mmhmm.”

“Get a room,” Tate coughed from his spot in the back, and we all giggled.

Finally, Robin pulled into the parking lot of our dorms.

“Come on,” Steve sighed, opening the car door and helping me out. His hand stayed at the small of my back as he walked me to the door, steadying me when I swayed slightly.

“I’m gonna have the worst headache tomorrow,” I whined.

“Probably,” he laughed, helping me up the stairs.

Robin cleared her throat, “I’m gonna go upstairs and let you guys… talk.” We nodded and watched her go, then turned back to each other.

“I should probably go up, too,” I mumbled, refusing to meet his eyes.

“Okay,” he nodded, but he didn’t let go of me. “I want to talk to you about -“

“I don’t want to talk about Elaine, Steve. Just go.”

“But-“

“No. I’m still drunk and I’m tired and my heart can’t take much more tonight so please just go and we’ll talk about it another time.”

“Grace,” he started, and I could tell he was frustrated, but I was too. It sucked walking up on him lip locking someone else. I didn’t want to listen or get over it yet. Any explanation he had wouldn’t be good enough for me, after all, what excuse is there to kiss another girl if he liked me? The only explanation was that he wasn’t into me, and he was trying to let me down easy. Or trying to have both.

“Stop,” I put my hand on his chest and pushed him away slightly, “I said another time. Please go.”

He watched me for a few seconds, waiting for me to change my mind, but I didn’t. I wanted him to go. For the first time, I wasn’t lingering or giving him that look like he could kiss me if he wanted to.

“Okay. Just take my number in case you need anything tonight.”

I nodded slowly, handing him my phone. He inputted the digits and handed it back, then let me walk inside in peace. I made it all the way upstairs before finally freeing my emotions, and the alcohol in my system caused them to spill out of my eyes.

“Oh, Y/N,” Robin sighed, walking over to sit by me.

“I am so over Steve Harrington,” I huffed.

“You didn’t even hear him out?”

“It doesn’t matter what he says, it’s not gonna wipe the image of them kissing out of my head.”

She nodded, staying up with me a little longer before we both nodded off.

The next morning, I woke up to a message from Steve. Apparently he’d called himself from my phone so he’d have my number too.

Good morning. Just checking on you. You feel okay?

I read it over and over before turning the phone off, deciding not to respond. I could feel my head pounding and I couldn’t take extra stress.

I got up, preparing to go get some water from the vending machine, but when I opened the door I saw a convenience store bag on the outside handle. I opened it to see advil, water, and powerade, along with a note scribbled on the receipt.

“Figured you might need this.

Let me know if you need anything else.

Steve.”

My heart grew as I paced back in the room, sitting on my bed. I texted him to thank him, then fell back to sleep with medicine and hydration in my system.

• The Next Class

I ignored Steve for the rest of that day. I suppose seeing him kiss someone else made the walls build up around my heart, but all I knew for sure was that he couldn’t get through anymore. Of course, I was still a bit sad. I liked Steve a lot, but we were better off as friends.

I walked to class the next morning, running a minute or two late but I knew Professor Chomsky wouldn’t care much. When I walked in, Steve and the guys were in their usual seats, and I took mine right in the center of them.

“Morning, Grace,” Steve absolutely beamed at me. I grinned tightly and politely in return, and pulled out my books, not bothering to respond. It probably seemed a little rude, but to me, it was what I had to do. “You gonna keep ignoring me? I screwed up that bad?”

I glanced over at him, “You didn’t screw up at all. We’re friends, Steve. I’m happy when you’re happy and if you’re happy with Elaine then I hope you guys work out.”

“Saturday night you were practically crying, and now you’re giving me your blessing and saying you want me to date her?”

“I was drunk. I’m not anymore, and yes, I want you to be with her. I’m sure she’s a great girlfriend. Just what you deserve.”

“Unbelievable,” he scoffed, “You really just want to be friends?”

“Yes,” I nodded curtly, turning to my books.

The other guys were looking at us curiously, like we were a soap opera playing right in front of them. They looked even more astounded when I walked out at the end of class without waiting for Steve. I felt horrible. He was the sweetest guy in the world. But clearly he liked Elaine more, seeing as she’s the one he made a move on, and I wasn’t going to stand in their way. I was sure it would get easier with time.

The next class I had with him went similarly. He tried to talk to me, and I brushed him off. I didn’t ignore him, I just didn’t entertain him, and I could tell it drove him nuts.

I could feel Elaine watching us, watching him. She must’ve been wondering why he was so wrapped up in me instead of talking to her. I was wondering that myself, but I let it go.

“Are you ever going to forgive him?” Robin asked as we walked out.

“I already did. It’s just not the same. I dunno,” I shrugged.

“I think you should hear him out. He’s bound to have an explanation for that kiss.”

“Even if he does, I don’t want to hear it, Rob. It happened and even if I decided to go back to how it used to be, I’d still see him kissing her in my brain every time he got close to me.”

“I understand,” she nodded, and we parted ways as she headed off to her next class. I, however, set off for my dorm.

“Grace!” I heard from behind me, and I sighed, knowing only one person called me that.

I turned around to see him sprinting to me, “I’m not letting you walk home alone.”

“Steve,” I sighed.

“No.” He seemed genuine, serious. “I care about you. Even if we’re just friends, I care about you. You don’t get to become one of my favorite people and then just cut me off. I’m walking you home. Like a friend would do.”

I stared at him for a moment, then nodded. Truthfully, I was delighted that he’d asked. I figured, with the way I’d treated him that day, he wouldn’t bother.

“So you and Elaine…” I started as we walked, genuine curiosity gnawing at me.

“Can we not talk about it?” he asked, and I nodded.

“Shouldn’t you be walking with her, though? How does she feel about our friendship?“

“Grace,” he warned, and I heeded, shutting up.

We made small talk the entire way, the awkward kind we weren’t used to. I hoped the “friendship” would come more naturally with time. After all, we’d been the best of friends for the entire two months since we met. And we’d never really been more than friends, so I wasn’t sure why this was throwing us off so much.

“Thank you for walking with me, Steve,” I said, preparing to walk away when he grabbed my hand.

“I really want us to go back to how things were before… what you saw.”

“I want that too, Steve. I just… can we forget everything and just be friends like we were?”

“Please,” he sighed, relief washing over him.

“But it can’t be quite the same. I don’t know if you realize how.. touchy, and close we are. Do you think maybe we could take a step back from that for a while?”

“If that’s what it takes to fix this, but I don’t want to. I hope you know that.”

“Steve, you have a girlfriend.”

“She’s not my girlfriend, she’s- well, she’s-“

“She’s what?”

“I can’t talk about it,” he ran his hand through his hair like he did when he was stressed.

“Of course. Well, when you’re ready to, we can go back to how it was. But for now, we’re just friends who don’t constantly sit by each other and hold hands and hug and walk together.”

“That’s fair,” he agreed, resigning himself to his fate.

With that, I left and we didn’t talk much for the rest of the day. He texted me, but I didn’t respond. I wanted him to get the picture.

• The Halloween Party

Another month passed slowly. Distancing myself from Steve was horrible. Every time the group hung out, he was agonizingly close, but I kept away and he respected my wishes and kept away from me, too. It almost itched, how badly I wanted to reach out and grab his hand. I thought it would become easier, but it didn’t. And the worst part was that the group wasn’t adjusting well to the new dynamic, constantly making jokes and comments about “me putting Steve in the dog house.”

Whatever had been going on with Steve and Elaine seemed to be over, they would chat but I never saw any PDA or even chemistry between them. In fact, she’d grown closer to Robin than anything, and when we would hang out, they would stick together. Natalie and Drew were a pair, and Steve would pack in with Tate and Johnny. I was sort of lonesome, but it was okay. Part of me wanted to just forget the kiss and go fully back to how it was, touching flirting and all. But as I told Robin, it was engrained in my memory and I didn’t really want him if he chose her first.

“Y/N,” Elaine snapped me out of my trance as we waited for class to start, all huddled up in our little group.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“I was telling everyone about my Halloween party. It’s gonna be you guys, and a few older friends I have in my other classes. Not, like, a banger, but definitely a crowd and a good time. Interested?”

“Of course, do I have to dress up?”

“Well it is a Halloween Party,” she rolled her eyes at me, laughing.

And that was that. We all planned to go. She was having it at her parents’ cabin, about 45 minutes away from the campus. Obviously, she couldn’t do it at her apartment.

The days leading up to it, Robin and I looked for costumes. She decided to go as Velma, and she tried to convince me to dress as Daphne but I suggested that Elaine be Daphne instead, and they both loved the idea. I had a costume of my own in mind.

I dug in the back of my closet until I found a black peasant dress that I’d had for forever. It was long sleeve, and the sleeves were lace and flared at the bottom. The cut was low and accentuated the way the corseted middle pushed up my chest, and the skirt flared out but still highlighted all my curves in all the right places. I paired it with some ripped up fishnets, black boots, and a funky witch’s hat I found at the Halloween store that also had lace lining it. It was perfect, maybe even good enough to get the kind of attention that would help me forget Steve once and for all.

When the day came for the party, Robin went to Elaine’s to get ready and I got ready alone. I curled my hair, did my makeup perfectly for the first time in forever, and finished the look off with red lipstick. Then I got dressed, and I was ready to head out the door when I got a phone call from Steve, whom I was supposed to meet outside of his dorm so he could drive me, Natalie, and the other guys there.

“Hey,” I answered, “What’s up?”

“Hey, just letting you know, don’t walk over. I’m coming to get you. Natalie is gonna take her car, and the guys are going with her, so it’ll just be me and you.”

“Okay, you headed here now?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there in like two minutes.”

“I’ll be outside waiting,” I told him and we hung up.

When he pulled up, I was standing on the curb, all dressed up. My nerves were bundled up in my stomach, and I felt like I needed to throw up. What if he didn’t like my outfit? He’d never seen me so dressed up before.

He got out of the car and ran over to the passenger side, opening the door for me. I couldn’t miss the way his eyes scanned me, hungry and searching for every exposed patch of skin he could see.

He cleared his throat as he sat in his own seat, “You look….”

“Different?” I raised an eyebrow.

“Good.”

I smiled, sitting back. My nerves were still there, but they were eased by the way he couldn’t stop staring at me, glances out of the corner of his eye giving him away as he began the drive.

“What’re you supposed to be?” I asked, raising my eyebrow at his black t shirt and black jeans.

“I didn’t want to dress up, but Robin said I had to so I just picked up a ghost face mask.”

“Ghost face, huh? Chicks dig that.”

“That’s exactly what Robin said,” he laughed, “Billy Loomis does it for girls, huh?”

“I’m not telling you what does it for me, but nice try.”

“I see the new look comes with a new attitude.”

I blushed, covering it up by staring out the window. We were doing so well, just being friendly. Why was he suddenly flirting now? And why was I flirting back? I told myself to get a grip, and stayed silent for a moment, so he turned up the radio, taking my hint.

The rest of the ride was filled with silence, heavy with tension. I felt like a rubber band about to snap, the glances he was giving me sending me into overdrive but I pretended I was fine, crossing my legs and staring out the window.

I opened my door before he had the chance when we pulled into the parking lot. There were a good bit of cars, and it seemed like a little more than a crowd. I suppose Elaine’s intimate hangout had accidentally turned into a party. Steve noticed this as well, placing his hand on the small of my back as we walked in together possessively but I brushed him off, walking over to where Robin and Elaine were sitting on the couch.

Robin must’ve been over the moon with all the attention she’d been getting from the older girl. Just by the way they were sitting, I could imagine her pulse racing. Elaine’s legs were thrown over Rob’s lap, her arms wrapped tightly around her neck. If I didn’t know them well, I’d assume they were a couple.

“Welcome to my party!” Elaine grinned.

“It did turn into quite the event, huh?” I chuckled, glancing around.

“One person told another person who told everybody, I guess,” she shrugged.

“Where’s the alcohol?” I asked her.

“Through that door,” she pointed to what I assumed was the kitchen. I walked that way, running into Tate and Johnny on the way, so they walked with me.

“You look hot, Y/N!” Johnny grinned wide as he told me so. He wasn’t being weird or anything, he was genuinely just giving me a compliment, so I grinned in return.

“Really, who knew you had this badass in you? Red lipstick and everything? Poor Steve must be having palpitations,” Tate laughed, and the other nodded.

“Steve and I are just friends.”

“That’s what you want, not what he wants. He loooooooves you, he wants to smooooooooch you,” Johnny sang, tapping his fingers together in a kissing motion.

“I think you’ve had too much too drink,” I scoffed, pouring myself a cup full of whatever looked good and leaving them to go back to the couch. The only open spot was beside Steve, so I took it, sipping on my drink.

“You’re not gonna make yourself a drink?” I asked him, and he shook his head.

“Put on your mask, dingus. It’s a costume party,” Robin reached over and poked him, and he rolled his eyes as he did as she asked.

He looked good. I could feel my heart begin to race as he turned to me, and usually it would’ve made me nervous, but I just felt powerful in that moment. I knew he thought I looked good. I wanted to use it. I wanted to make him burn like I had.

I leaned in close to him, “Wanna play psycho killer?”

“Grace-“ he started, but I cut him off.

“Can I be the helpless victim?” I placed my hand on his chest, my fingers brushing over where hair peeled through the top of his v neck. I almost felt him shiver. “Please don’t kill me, Mr Ghost Face. I wanna be in the sequel!” I trailed my hand down his chest, scratching him lightly with my nails. As I approached his waist line, he grabbed my wrist sharply, halting my movements.

“You think you’re cute?” he huffed.

“You think I’m cute,” I smirked. I pulled my hand away from him and got up, leaving him there basically panting as I walked away.

I found Johnny and Tate chatting with a couple of other guys, and approached.

“Oh, hey! Y/N! I was wondering where you ran off to!” Tate smiled, welcoming me in.

“Just went to mess with Steve,” I shrugged, glancing at the other guys. One of them had his eyes on me, and I took the opportunity.

“Are you friends with these guys?” I asked him, leaning in a little closer.

“Yeah, I stay in the same dorm as them,” the guy nodded.

“Oh, neat! I can’t believe I’ve never seen you before!”

“Yeah, but it’s okay. Plenty of time to make up for it,” he winked at me.

“What are you doing?” Johnny whisper yelled into my ear, “Steve is watching you!”

“Steve and I are just friends. He likes kissing other girls so I’m gonna go talk to another guy.”

With that, I stepped closer to the mystery man. “Wanna dance?”

He nodded, grabbing my hand and pulling me to the center of the floor where people were dancing. He turned me around and I began swaying with him, daring to glance over at Steve. He looked furious, absolutely fuming at the sight of me with someone else. I was thriving off of it.

All of a sudden, Elaine pulled me away from him, pulling me closer to the couches. The guy protested for a second but Elaine sent him a death glare and he backed off.

“Why are you doing this?” she sighed.

“Doing what?”

“Dancing with him. Steve is right there. You’re breaking his heart.”

“Steve kissed you, Elaine. Even if you guys aren’t a thing, even if it didn’t work out or whatever and he likes me now, it happened and I can’t just forget that. He liked you more than me or he wouldn’t have kissed you instead of me and I don’t want to be second choice.”

“But that’s not what happened! Steve and I were never a thing!”

“Well he must’ve felt something, because he sure did swap spit with you.”

“It was a peck,” she rolled her eyes and huffed, throwing her hands up dramatically, “And I’m gay.”

My mouth fell agape, “What?”

“I never knew. I mean, I always thought girls were cute or whatever but I never had romantic feelings for them. Then I met Robin and couldn’t think about anything else. Excuse my bluntness, but I’ve never wanted to scissor anyone so badly. Steve is so easy to talk to, I completely opened up that night. I asked him if I could kiss him to see if I felt anything. To see if it felt right, and he said yes and believe me, neither of us felt anything. It was just weird.”

“So you and Robin are together now?”

“Well… I’m hoping we’ll get together tonight, if you catch my drift.”

“And Steve never liked you?”

“Of course not. Y/N, he’s been head over heels for you since he met you. He doesn’t talk about anyone else, he doesn’t think about anyone else.”

“Oh God, why didn’t I just hear him out sooner when he tried to talk to me about this? I’ve screwed everything up!”

“Look at him. He loves you, it’s all over his face. You haven’t screwed anything up.”

I stared at him for a moment before thanking her and heading his way.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked, standing directly in front of where he sat so my knees bumped into his bent ones.

“Why didn’t I tell you what?”

“About Elaine. If I’d just known-“

“I promised her I wouldn’t say anything to anyone until she was sure.”

“Still, you could’ve-“

“You were so upset about me kissing another girl, nothing but the truth would’ve worked.”

“Steve,” I sighed, “If I had known-“

“What would you have done?”

“I would’ve- Well, I would’ve-“

I couldn’t even complete my sentence, he cut me off at the jump, leaning in and slotting his lips onto mine. I was startled for a moment but he didn’t stop, and eventually I kissed back, savoring every second like it was the last. He pulled away as if he wanted to say something but I didn’t let him, pulling him right back in by his shirt and wrapping my arms around his neck. His hands found my back, pulling me closer into an arch and wandering, ghosting over my waist line.

We were cut short by cheers coming from beside us, and we backed away from each other just enough to look.

“It’s about damn time, dingus!” Robin huffed, wrapped tightly in Elaine’s arms. I blushed, hiding my face in Steve’s chest, and he leaned down to my ear.

“Come with me,” he whispered, and I nodded.

He lead me to the backyard, where a lake was glistening in the moonlight. There was a lake house beside it, cute and cottagey, like something out of a story book.

“Elaine is letting all of us stay here tonight,” he explained, “There’s only three bedrooms, though. So she told me we could stay out here.”

“She just assumed I’d be staying wherever you stay?”

“I mean, be honest with yourself, Grace. Even if we were still just friends, you’d rather bunk with me than anyone else here.”

“I suppose that’s true,” I shrugged, following him through the door to see that it was immaculately decorated. It didn’t have a real fireplace like the house did but it did have one of those huge automatic ones, so he turned it on, warming the place up. It was one room, there was a bed in the corner, not huge but big enough for the two of us, a TV above the fireplace and a couch in front of it with some other furniture scattered about. There was a closet and a bathroom, as well.

“We left the party awfully early,” I observed, turning to him.

“I have a night in a lake house with you, and you think I wanna waste it partying?”

“Well, when you put it that way,” I smiled, grabbing his hand and pulling him closer.

“I’m in love with you, Grace. I haven’t loved anyone in a really long time, and maybe never like this. And I know it’s quick, but I don’t care. I love you.”

“I love you too, stupid,” I rolled my eyes, pulling him closer until his lips met mine again and we fell into a dance of teeth and tongue.

He grabbed the fat of my hip, squeezing, the dress bunching up in his fingers.

“Fuck, Y/N, do you even know what this dress does to me?” he groaned, “Never seen you like this before.”

“I only bought it so you could take it off,” I rasped as his lips found my neck. At my words, he started sucking, leaving a mark I was sure would stay for days, and I moaned. Something about him wanting to claim me made me shiver, goosebumps littering my skin, my need multiplying.

“I can do that, baby,” he nodded, reaching behind me and pulling the zipper down slowly. He eased it down my shoulders, his fingertips brushing my skin and his eyes following their path. His irises got a little darker at the sight of the black lace covering my most sacred places, and he went ahead and undid the clasp of my bra, letting it fall with the dress.

“You look so pretty like this,” he sighed, staring at me for a moment, his gaze loving.

“Your turn,” I smirked, slipping my hands under his shirt and pulling it over his head. My fingertips clumsily attempted to undo his belt, and he stopped me, doing it himself one handed and throwing it on the ground. It was one of the hottest things I’ve seen him do. I let out a light moan, and he chuckled.

“Feel like a helpless victim yet?” he asked.

“You’re not wearing the mask, so no,” I shrugged jokingly, and he frowned.

“I can fix that,” he stated, walking to the table by the door where he’d set said mask. He pulled it on his head and my mouth fell slightly agape. He looked so perfect. So pretty.

“Want me to fuck you just like this?” he asked, and I nodded frantically. “Come here,” he grabbed my hips lightly, leading me to the end of the bed. He spun me slowly, “Bend over for me, baby,” he coaxed as he pressed on my back. I did as he asked and all I heard was a rip as he tore off the stockings, not worrying about my shoes.

I looked back to see him falling to his knees, then I felt his fingertips where I needed him most and I gasped. It was slow at first, just light touching, but I was absolutely dripping, desperately waiting for what I wanted.

“Steve, baby, please,” I whimpered, and he chuckled again.

“Anything for you, Grace,” he cooed, pushing one finger in. I let out a sigh and a moan, begging for more, and he obliged, pushing in another and eventually a third. Before long, he had a steady rhythm, pushing in and out of me in a way that had me ready to come apart.

“Please Steve, need it, need more, need you,” I panted, pushing back on him, reaching behind me to touch whatever part of him I could reach.

I heard a sharp zip as he undid his pants, kicking them off. His tip rubbed against my slit teasingly at first, then pushed in slowly, and I let out a shaky breath. He was huge, bigger than I’d probably ever had, and my walls were stretched deliciously. It didn’t help that I hadn’t done anything with anyone in a while. I’d been waiting for Steve since before I even met him.

“Please,” I whined, my voice a broken shell of what it was before he kissed me. He’d wrecked me already and hadn’t even fucked me yet.

“Here you go, baby. I’ve got you,” he sighed, setting a steady pattern of thrusts, hard and quick and perfect, everything I needed from him, His hands found my hips, squeezing hard enough to leave bruises, and I met him thrust for thrust pushing into him like a woman starved.

That lasted for a little longer before he pulled out abruptly. I whined, achingly empty, but he stopped me short by grabbing my hips and turning me over. “Scoot back,” he instructed, “I wanna see your pretty face.”

“I wanna see yours too,” I hummed as I did as he asked, scooting all the way to the top of the bed and laying my head down like a true pillow princess. He nodded, ripping the mask off and tossing it aside, and I gasped at him in all his glory. He was so handsome, hair a mess on his head, a slight sheen of sweat making him glisten.

He climbed up on top of me, grabbing my leg and putting it over his shoulder. He leaned down and captured my lips as he pushed in, and I groaned, the new angle putting him in just the right spot.

“I’m gonna cum if you keep doing that,” I whimpered.

“That’s the point,” he smirked, reaching down to rub circles on my clit as he fucked me harder. “Such a good girl, gonna cum all over me?”

I nodded frantically, wrapping my free leg around his back and pulling him in farther, earning a deep groan.

“You’re so perfect like this, taking it so good. Who woulda known my quiet girl could take it like this?” his words spurred me on, making me see stars as the coil in my tummy got ready to snap.

“Steve baby need to cum, please cum with me,” I gasped, clenching around him as I finally snapped, and he groaned. He wasn’t very far behind me, and we rode out our highs together, staring at each other when we were done like a couple of lovestruck kids.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to get here,” he whispered for only me, and I giggled.

“It’s okay, Steve. It’s my fault. If I hadn’t spent so long being jealous, this would’ve already happened.”

“I think it happened right when it was supposed to,” he smirked, kissing me on the forehead and walking to the bathroom. He wet a towel and brought it back, cleaning me up and then himself, then joined me in bed.

“Would you wanna, like, go on a date with me?” he asked, nerves clouding his voice.

I thought it over for a moment, leaving him in suspense.

“Of course. How about tomorrow?”

[newtthetranswriter]

'Ello, 'ello, 'ello! I just saw your post about making GO2 x readers. I was wondering if you can make an Aziraphale x reader? The reader is a rank lower than Aziraphale, but more chaotic when they got on earth. Reader's a freaking simp to Aziraphale and tells everything they like about him to Crowley.

Bonus if Crowley literally yeets the reader to Aziraphale for swooning too much.

Word count: 1335

Paring: Aziraphale x reader

A/n: Thank you for requesting I hope you enjoy it. It was nice dipping into the Good Omens fandom for writing. Requests are currently open, just make sure to check my rules and character list before requesting thanks, and enjoy. Also very small season 2 spoilers so read at your own discretion. MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT

  Having been on earth for the past 6000 years has been wild. I have witnessed and maybe participated in multiple wars, seen the rise and fall of empires, but the best thing I have witnessed on earth is my fellow angel, Aziraphale. I just love his fascination with books, and the workings of human society. The fact that he even is so kind as to help the demon Crowley with tasks that they both happen to be assigned to is amazing, he is such a kind individual and needs to be protected.

   Over the years I have noticed that whenever I’m around him my brain goes fuzzy, like it becomes impossible to think of anything other than him. I have no idea how to tell him this, I mean it’s not like he would feel the same about me. After all that we have been through together I think it’s best if i just keep these feelings to myself, as I don’t want to jeopardize our friendship.

    Well keeping it to myself is far easier said than done as I was currently pestering my favorite fallen angel, and some things may have slipped out.

    “I don’t know when I started feeling this way, I just think he’s so sweet. And the look on his face when he thought his books were destroyed in that church back in ww2, he was so sad and then he realized you saved them he was so happy. I love how he takes care of his books like they are the most important things in this world.” I said, talking the demon's ear off as he just rolled his eyes at me.

    He just continued to sit on the park bench while we were waiting for Aziraphale, watching me pass in front of him. “Why are you telling me this, I don’t care.” He said hoping I would just sit down and shut up.

    I just rolled my eyes and continued knowing it would probably still be a few minutes before the angle showed up. “I just wish I knew what he was thinking in that pretty little brain of his.” I sighed as I sat next to Crowley. “Who am I kidding, he would never like me like that. I’m one misstep from being a demon, he’s so straight laced while I like to cause trouble. He wouldn’t even look my way if we weren’t both angels.” I said exasperated.

  The demon next to me just sighed before hoping the other angel would show up already. “Just because you are more of a morally gray angel doesn't mean he wouldn’t look at you. I mean look at me, I’m a demon and he talks to me.” Crowley said, jestering to himself. “ And trust me he does like you, talks about you whenever you aren’t around.” He said, trying to cheer me up.

   “Yeah right, there is no way Aziraphale, the perfect angel who runs a book shop that is really just a cover for his hoarding problem,  would like me. But it’s whatever, I've resigned myself to watching from afar. I’m fine watching him light up every time he finds a rare book, or finds a new food he likes.” I said in a dreamy voice. “Anyway I’m done talking about it, he should be here soon.”

    Just as I finished the sentence, said angel walked up to us. We both greeted him before checking in on whether any of us have heard from hell or heaven recently, thankfully not. After about ten minutes of quick catch up, Aziraphale stood up and turned to us. “Would either of you care to join me for lunch?” He asked with a bright smile.

   I was about to decline when Crowley spoke up with a wicked smirk. “Oh I’m not in the mood to eat right now but our dear Y/n would gladly join you.” He then pushed me off the bench towards the angel ignoring my glare.

   “Well then, shall be off than Y/n.” Aziraphale said as he reached for my hand. I hesitantly accepted it, not missing the thumbs up Crowley shot my way as me and the angel walked away. 

   As we approached the small dinner we had picked for lunch Aziraphale took notice of me being more quiet than usual. “Is everything alright? You’ve been oddly quiet.” I could hear the concern in his voice as we took our sets.

   I gave him a small smile before responding,”Everything is fine just feeling a little under the weather I guess.” I said hoping he would accept the answer and leave it at that.

   “Oh, are you sure you are up to getting food then, we could go back to the bookshop and I could make you a nice cup of tea?” The angel asked, making my heart swell and blush rush to my checks. “You do look a bit warm.”

   I silently cursed myself of course he would notice me blushing. I tried to think of an excuse. “I’m fine really, it’s just a little warm. Let’s just order.” I watched as he let out a sigh before waving down the waitress and placed our order. I relaxed slightly hoping he finally let it go.

   After about thirty minutes, we had finished eating and were now walking back to Aziraphale’s bookshop. It was an awkward silence, I could tell he wanted to ask me about something but I wasn’t sure what. As we turned a corner on to a less crowded street he stopped suddenly, I turned and looked at him confused. We were only a couple blocks from the bookshop, why did he stop all of a sudden.

   “You’re hiding something from me.” He said out of nowhere, his tone wasn’t angry but more concerned. “I heard you talking with Crowley before. I didn’t hear everything but I could tell it was something about me because you ended the conversation saying ‘he should be here soon.’. And I don’t want to over step but if there is something you need to tell me please just tell me, I promise to listen. I’m really good at Listening.” I could tell he was worried that it was something bad.

   I froze for a second before walking up to him. “It’s nothing bad, I just don’t know how to tell you this.” I said, looking away slightly. “Look, you don’t have to respond now or ever actually, but I like you, a lot. And I know you probably don’t feel the same but I just needed to get it off my chest. I love how much you love books, and helping people.” I finally got the words off my chest hoping to at least still have one of my best friends.

   There was a pause before he smiled at me and grabbed my hands. “How could I possibly not feel the same way? Yes you tend to go about things in a less than angelic way but that’s part of what makes you so amazing. I love that about you, I love that I can talk to you about my rare books and you will listen, I love that you get along with Crowley cause let’s be honest he’s not the easiest to talk with. It’s amazing to have you here. So I do feel the same, and never be scared to tell me your feelings. I am here to listen.”

    I just looked at him in shock. Crowley was right, Aziraphale does feel the same. I was at a loss for words but I settled on giving him the biggest smile I could before pulling him in for a hug. As I pulled from the hug, he placed a hand on my cheek and smiled. I knew that whatever came next, we would have each other's back. Little did I know that what came next was a very naked Gabriel who had no clue who he was or why he was here. This was gonna be fun.

[emotionallychargedtowel]

The psychological paradoxes of Utsukushii Kare, part 1: Covert grandiosity and finding status through idealization

I’ve had some thoughts about Utsukushii Kare bouncing around in my head since the end of season 2. I started to post about them back then but my first attempts stalled out. Maybe the ideas involved were too complex, or I just needed to let them marinate a bit longer. I tried to give up on getting them on “paper,” but they just wouldn’t leave me alone. Eventually I returned to them and everything clicked. This is part one of my attempt to get those ideas down. After a ridiculous amount of tinkering, it seems like the right time to let it see the light of day. Subsequent posts are in different stages of readiness as well.

I wouldn’t have finished this without copious encouragement and feedback from @lurkingshan and specific edits from @wen-kexing-apologist. A kind comment from @nieves-de-sugui was a shot in the arm. And I’m always indebted to @porridgefeast for support, encouragement, and cute animal content.

I’ve written a lot about this series in the past; refer to my Utsukare master post for a continuously updated list. This includes some related posts on pursuer/distancer dynamics and attachment style in the series that have some overlap with what I’m discussing here, but this post should also stand on its own quite well.

A few things to note at the outset:

My focus here is on the series (both seasons), but I will refer to the movie, the novel, and a couple of vignettes when they illustrate points that are consistent with and relevant to the series.

My approach in this series of posts involves viewing fictional characters the way I would if they were real people--a bit like if I were to do a case conceptualization of a potential client. This isn’t always the approach I use, or the best one, but I thought it was a good fit for what I wanted to discuss here.

Quotes will be cited, but general information on sources will be given at the end of the post.

Now, to get down to business.

* * * * * * *

I’ve seen a lot of commentary from other Utsukare fans about Hira and Kiyoi and how much their self-worth–and the lack thereof–impacts their relationship. It’s a clear theme and lots of folks have had salient insights about it. But one thing I haven’t seen in any of the posts I’ve read is a full acknowledgement of the duality at play there–the way that both characters sometimes believe, or at least fear, that they’re irredeemably awful and at the same time believe, or perhaps hope, that they are better than everyone else.

I’m sure someone reading this is thinking, “Kiyoi is like that, sure. But Hira? Thinking he’s superior? Come on.” I get that it isn’t always apparent. In a genre that loves to portray profoundly smitten, devoted characters, Hira stands out as intensely, even excessively, whipped. But yes, Hira totally sees himself as superior to others in some important ways. Even before Noguchi Hiromi took his inventory about this so mercilessly, there were plenty of other signs.

covert grandiosity and idealization

Our introduction to Hira is his description of the “pyramid” social structure he experiences at school and how he’s at the lowest level of that pyramid (invisible at best, a visible target at worst). At first glance, this seems self-deprecating. But Hira is just describing where he falls in the structure, not endorsing the structure or his place in it. This sets up an important distinction that comes up continually in Hira’s thinking. Sometimes he really thinks badly of himself. But other times, he’s reporting how, in his view at least, others think of him. Sometimes he’s resigned to the ways others see him, but other times, he rebels against them. He doesn’t always make it clear which of these things he’s doing at a given time, but if you know what to look for it starts to be easier to pick out.

Mind you, it’s still very clear that there are ways in which Hira does view himself extremely negatively. His belief that he’s unworthy of Kiyoi is particularly strong. It inspires a lot of demeaning metaphors about himself, like calling himself a “pebble.” His belief in his unworthiness is linked to the belief that Kiyoi can’t possibly return his feelings or that if he does, it’s a bizarre miracle that can’t possibly last over the long term. The most remarkable thing about this belief is its incredible persistence, even in the face of example after example of evidence that Kiyoi loves and values him too and wants them to stay together. But denigrating himself in this context has a different meaning from what it would in others, as I'll get into in more detail shortly.

It’s a pretty universal human tendency to pay more attention to information that confirms our biases than information that challenges them. We’re also hard-wired to be more attentive to perceived threats (including threats to our sense of self-worth) than we are to less threatening things (and ideas). Both of these tendencies contribute to the fact that most of us fail to notice when our negative beliefs are being disproven.

I’ll be discussing this in more depth in part 2, but for now, I’ll just say that resistance to disproving a negative belief is very normal, but Hira’s stubbornness is way beyond what’s typical. He continually misinterprets or simply ignores clear signs of Kiyoi’s interest in and regard for him. I mean, most of us, no matter how poor our self-esteem is, no matter how jaded and pessimistic we are, would, if kissed by someone we’re in love with, at least entertain the possibility that they might like us a little bit. Not only does Hira not consider this possibility, he comes up with the rather bizarre interpretation that the graduation day kiss was Kiyoi’s way of telling him to leave him alone.

So, why would anyone be as stubbornly negative on this point as Hira is? Part of it is the strength of his negative beliefs and the degree of his bias. But there’s another reason as well, one I’m going to circle back to in a moment.

First, let’s look at Noguchi’s assessment of Hira in season 2, episode 4, which is very pertinent here. Talking about Hira’s submission to the Young Photographica contest, Noguchi says:

It was such a childish photo. You should've just chosen an empty place rather than erasing people. Going out of your way to [erase] people made it very clear that you hate this world. What I felt from your photo was tremendous selfishness and disgust. You haven't succeeded at all, but you think you're amazing. But instead of showing it outright, you make a shell by belittling yourself. You look down on this world with youth, stupidity, and ambiguity….You're just like the old me.

(dialogue from Viki subtitles)

It’s a little bit of a stretch, I think, to suggest that Noguchi can really tell all of this just by looking at a single photo (or even Hira’s entire portfolio). I think this partly happens just for the convenience of the story. But if I had to justify it, I’d say Noguchi has this much insight because, as he says, he used to be like Hira, making this a “takes one to know one” situation.

Hira confirms that Noguchi is correct here. “It’s like he sees right through me,” he thinks. So how do we reconcile this with Hira’s apparent negative self-image? Well, first off, it’s not unusual at all for very negative and excessively positive beliefs about the self to coexist in the same person. Take narcissism for example. People tend to think of narcissists as grandiose, thinking they’re amazing and special to a degree that’s clearly distorted. And that is one of the key symptoms of narcissism. But it’s also typical for narcissists to believe that if they aren’t remarkably special, they’re totally worthless. They have a hard time sitting with moderate (hence realistic) beliefs about themselves.

This kind of narcissistic tendency is really strong in people with Narcissistic Personality Disorder, but it’s present in a milder version in a lot of people (I suspect it’s present in most people, to some extent and under certain circumstances). Narcissistic personality traits are supposed to be linked to getting stuck at a developmental stage that ideally gets worked through during childhood. But a lot of us have at least a little bit of unfinished business from that period. I think Hira has a ton of unresolved stuff in this area. I definitely don’t think he would meet criteria for NPD. But I think that when he was in that developmental stage, he came up with some maladaptive strategies that helped him to get through it. As a result, he didn’t get stuck in the full-blown grandiose version of NPD, but he did get stuck with those maladaptive strategies, and they became a part of his personality instead. And he did retain 1) some of that highly polarized idea of self-worth (“I’m either the best ever or complete garbage”) and 2) some degree of belief in his superiority to others, no matter how shameful he finds it or how carefully he conceals it.

It’s also worth noting here that adolescents aren’t typically supposed to be diagnosed with personality disorders and even diagnosing young adults is often discouraged. This is because adolescence and early adulthood are times of intense change and development and the natural process of maturing can cause personality disorder symptoms to resolve even without mental health treatment. So that’s yet another reason to be wary of labeling Hira with any such diagnosis. This points to a major theme of the show, which is the fact that the central characters are works in progress. They aren’t fully formed adults yet, and that gives them a chance to improve themselves before they become set in their ways.

Getting back to Noguchi’s points: Hira is pretty misanthropic, although it’s often shown in pretty subtle ways in the show. This aspect of Hira is more noticeable in the novel. For one thing, the novel establishes early on that the erasing-people-from-photos thing isn’t some new or isolated phenomenon. Rather, the main thing Hira does with his camera at the beginning of the story is to intentionally take photos of populated areas and then carefully photoshopping out all of the people. And it’s explicitly because he dislikes, even hates, most of humanity. This tendency still comes through in the series. Sometimes it’s obvious–remember those mass shooting fantasies?--and other times, it’s more subtle. We know that this aspect of the character is definitely still present in the series version of Hira since he confirms what Noguchi says about how his photo shows “selfishness and disgust.” He really is disgusted by many of the people around him.

making a shell - perfectionism and covert grandiosity

What about the part of Noguchi’s spiel where he says that Hira “make[s] a shell by belittling [himself]?” It took me some thinking to realize what (in my view) he meant by that.

This actually syncs up really well with something Noguchi says about Hira in Utsukushii Kare: Eternal. It’s illuminating enough that I’m making an exception here to confining myself to the time period of the series.

In this scene, Kiyoi is scheduled to be photographed by Noguchi on a day that Hira isn’t present at his studio. He asks about Hira and he and Noguchi talk about him briefly. Hearing that Kiyoi was Hira’s high school classmate, Noguchi talks about how weird and confining high school is, a terrible “environment for growth.” He says that doesn’t apply to Hira, though, because he’s “a king in sheep’s clothing.” This catches Kiyoi’s attention. “I was just thinking that you understand him really well,” he tells Noguchi. “I do,” Noguchi replies. “Although he looks timid and weak, he’s actually really strong.”

As Noguchi continues, his comments become more metaphorical and get harder to understand. (I suspect that the metaphors he uses might be idiomatic or otherwise intelligible to a Japanese audience in a way that’s difficult to get across in translation.) The gist is that he sees Hira as “strong-minded,” but that “in his heart” he has a kind of “sanctuary” that he protects from others, and that this could end up either holding Hira back or being something he can use to get somewhere in life. I’m not sure what to make of the sanctuary part, but it’s clear that Noguchi understands that Hira has thoughts and emotions that he doesn’t share with anyone, and that his image as a “sheep” who is “timid and weak” masks an unseen strength and determination, along with a more king-like attitude toward the world than he typically shows to others.

Time for a quick psychological theory sidebar, this time on perfectionism.

Some researchers who study perfectionism have identified a type they call “narcissistic perfectionism.” Narcissistic perfectionists think that they are, or need to be, perfect, and they expect others to be the same way, thinking about them in highly negative ways if they don’t measure up. If you read about this idea, most of the examples given to illustrate it are people who have achieved a lot in their lives, who can point to big accomplishments. But perfectionism doesn’t always result in achievements. Sometimes it keeps people stuck in a mindset that anything but perfection is pointless, making them reluctant to really try to do anything at all. If you’re a perfectionist who has a need to believe you’re special, that you would achieve big things if you tried, actually trying means taking a risk that you’ll find out that when you try, the results aren’t actually perfect and amazing.

According to narcissistic thinking, this would mean that you’re worthless, because the options are either being the best or being complete garbage. Again, I think it’s an overstatement and an oversimplification to call Hira a narcissist, but he has unresolved self-worth baggage that takes a somewhat narcissistic shape. In this way, he shows a kind of perfectionism that seems clearly underpinned by his self-worth issues. Instead of fueling achievements, this perfectionism keeps him stuck, inactive, too afraid to attempt what he thinks he might be able to do while clinging to a fantasy of what he could do if he ever got un-stuck and really tried.

That’s usually a secret. Remember when Hira didn’t make it through the first cut of the contest? He thought, “Even though I always deny it out loud, I did think photography was the one thing I can do. It felt like I was being ripped apart for being conceited" (dialogue from a fansub by @lollipopsub). The fact that he would "deny it out loud" is notable. I also think that he’s still not being entirely candid. If he thought “photography was the one thing [he] can do,” that wouldn’t exactly be “conceited”--it would actually be quite modest (about photography) and harshly self-critical (about everything else). I think deep down he has thoughts that are truly conceited, thoughts that he’s not just competent when it comes to photography, but “amazing,” as Noguchi puts it. Once again, Hira confirms everything Noguchi said with his “he sees right through me” reaction, so he agrees with this assessment.

This conceited side of Hira is never supposed to see the light of day. This is the main reason he’s so intensely embarrassed when Noguchi understands him so well, I think. It’s what Noguchi is talking about when he says that Hira “make[s] a shell by belittling [him]self.” Acting as if he’s the lowest of the low is a defense. It does correspond to the part of himself that fears, at times even believes, that he’s worthless. But it’s also a way of hiding his grandiose side. This is a way of protecting himself from the reaction others would have if they could see how highly he thinks of himself despite not having made enough effort to accomplish the sorts of things he thinks he’s capable of. It’s also a way of protecting himself from his own awareness of his shortcomings and pretensions.

There’s another type of perfectionism researchers have identified, called “covert perfectionism,” in which the person’s outward expectations of others are low and they don’t show their perfectionistic traits outwardly very much, if at all. They’re supposed to be more likely than some types to get trapped in the kind of stuckness I mentioned earlier, in which perfectionism prevents the person from making a real effort at things they would like to do well. In some important ways, Hira’s perfectionism resembles this type as well. You could say that his type of perfectionism has definite narcissistic attributes, but he hides it well enough that it is also covert.

A number of different articles on perfectionism that I looked at cited the same Brene Brown quote about it, from her book The Gifts of Imperfection. I think it’s very salient here. She writes:

Perfectionism is a self-destructive and addictive belief system that fuels this primary thought: If I look perfect, and do everything perfectly, I can avoid or minimize the painful feelings of shame, judgment, and blame.

This is very characteristic of Hira. He doesn’t expect to “look perfect” in most respects (he’s more likely to simply try to go unnoticed). But he is obsessed with avoiding those painful emotions. He has spent his entire life being shamed and judged and living in fear of it happening still more. He’s very strategic and has given a lot of thought to how best to avoid being shamed. In fact, these efforts seem to be part of the reason he is such an avid observer of the social structures around him–learning about those structures is a survival skill for him.

idealization and affiliation: borrowing status

In addition to factoring in his covert grandiosity, I think there’s something else to account for when looking closely at Hira’s apparent self-hatred. Hira’s self-critical tendencies can appear inflated if we lump examples that pertain to his relationship with Kiyoi in with other cases. They should actually be looked at separately, because their meanings are distinctly different. Again, I don’t contest that Hira has a low opinion of himself in a lot of respects. But I think when we step back and look at many of the biggest examples of what appears to be a negative view of himself, a lot of them are focused on where he stands in relation to Kiyoi. That’s not the same thing as his value as a person. And placing himself in a certain role in relation to Kiyoi has a specific kind of meaning for him, along with a specific kind of payoff.

Here comes another theoretical interlude. This time, I’m going to briefly touch on Heinz Kohut’s idea of the need for idealization.

Kohut was the originator of a school of thought called self psychology, a branch of psychoanalysis that underpins a lot of contemporary psychoanalytic/psychodynamic theory and practice. He was also an expert on narcissism and basically saw variations and degrees of narcissism as central to a lot of psychological challenges. (There’s some reason to believe Kohut may himself have had narcissistic personality disorder, which would have made him intimately familiar with its inner workings.)

Kohut’s self psychology departed from Freud’s whole psychosexual development model (basically, everyone’s least favorite aspect of Freudianism—the part with all the penis envy and Oedipal stuff and so forth). In its place, self psychology focuses on how we see ourselves, what our needs are in terms of self-image, and other matters that are very relevant to this discussion. One of Kohut’s most important insights was his observation that even when other people have a big impact on our psychological state, what we’re interacting with isn’t so much the other person themselves but our internalized idea of that person. Kohut called internalized versions of people and things from our external world “selfobjects.” (I’ll be circling back to this momentarily.)

One of Kohut’s most central concepts is idealization. In Kohut’s version of idealization, a person views someone else as basically perfect, maybe even omnipotent. The idealized person becomes a special kind of selfobject. In the best case scenario, the person doing the idealizing has some kind of real, personal connection to the idealized person. But even a mental connection to them via their status as a selfobject can meet a need in some ways.

By feeling connected to, or even just affiliated with, the idealized person, the idealizer feels like they take on some degree of the qualities they see in the idealized person. It’s not hard to see how this tendency would date back to childhood. Children have a particular need to idealize their parents at certain stages in their development. Thinking of their parents as strong, capable, in control, wise, calm, etc. gives children a sense of safety and a sort of borrowed self-esteem.

Once you’ve idealized someone, you feel a real need to continue to see them as special and powerful. Again, childrens’ views of their parents are a good example here. One reason children often blame themselves when they are neglected or abused is because they have a strong need to continue to view their parents favorably. Without that favorable view of their parent, their world would seem chaotic and dangerous. Blaming themselves often seems safer. Here, maintaining the high status of the idealized person is so important that it’s a bigger priority than preserving self-worth.

I bet you can guess where I’m going with this. Yep, Hira idealizes Kiyoi in the Kohutian sense of the word. There are a number of facets of this. Part of it involves viewing Kiyoi as basically perfect–outstanding in every way. Even when Hira sees Kiyoi as cruel, he seems to view this as an ideal attribute for someone like Kiyoi.

Hira not only states that he thinks of Kiyoi as “like a God" in season 1, episode 6, he frequently expects Kiyoi to have god-like qualities and abilities. In one of Nagira Yuu's shorter pieces about Hira and Kiyoi that's told from Hira's perspective, he's explicit about this. "Kiyoi's existence is already in a much higher dimension than human beings," he thinks. "Is he the successful fusion of deity and human? That is the big question" ("Wonderful World," as translated by @sparkling-rain). At points during the series, he expects Kiyoi to have a superhuman degree of freedom to do anything he wishes and to know things that would require him to read Hira's mind. He really does treat him as if he’s practically omnipotent.

Hira's idealization of Kiyoi has a number of implications. One is that Hira misunderstands the social structure at his school. He views Kiyoi as the unquestioned king and doesn’t see that in many ways, Kiyoi makes choices about how to behave in school out of a desire to stay on the good side of bullies like Shirota. This fundamental misunderstanding in turn makes it impossible for Hira to notice or understand all the ways Kiyoi tries to protect him at school. If Kiyoi were really at the peak of the school hierarchy, if he wanted to be nice to Hira, he would just do it. But because he has to maintain a certain image in order to keep himself safe, he has to help Hira in covert ways. For example, when Kiyoi admonishes Yoshida not to order Hira around or use his demeaning, ableist nickname, he makes it seem like he just wants Hira to be at his beck and call, which wouldn’t be possible if he were occupied doing tasks for others. But if that were the case, why would he object to Yoshida using the nickname? For that matter, why doesn’t Kiyoi ever use the nickname himself? (He says it aloud in his exchange with Yoshida, but he never actually uses it to address Hira.) If Hira weren’t so invested in the idea of Kiyoi’s supreme power, he might have noticed these disparities between his narrative and reality within the story.

In season 2, the fact that Hira is both someone who has a relationship with Kiyoi and at the same time is a fan of Kiyoi as a performer points out another aspect of idealization. While I’ve never seen Kohut’s concept of idealization applied to fandom, I think there’s at least a variation of it at play when we feel comforted by, or as if we gain status from, being a fan of a person (or a group, piece of media, etc.) that we see as special or powerful. When we get excited because the sports team we root for does well or our favorite actor wins an award or is in a movie or show that does well, I think we’re experiencing a kind of gratification based on a selfobject that we feel is ideal in some way. Our status as fans gives us an affiliation that feels similar to a real connection. (Parasocial relationships are related to this as well–something that’s likely to resonate with those of us who participate in BL fandom, where examples of parasocial relationships abound.)

So both as a fan and as a classmate, then a (sort of) friend, then a boyfriend, Hira gets a great deal of satisfaction and happiness from idealizing Kiyoi and feeling like he has a kind of tie to him. This is completely interwoven with the love he feels for Kiyoi in the beginning. But it also makes it very difficult for him to acknowledge the ways in which Kiyoi doesn’t actually resemble his initial, idealized selfobject of him. Kiyoi isn’t omnipotent. He was never actually the most powerful person in their high school class. In many ways, he’s actually a better person than his selfobject version. Although Kiyoi isn’t the nicest person ever, he’s not nearly as cruel as the cold, imperious figure Hira paints him as.

Sometimes Hira chooses this selfobject over Kiyoi the human being, and Kiyoi knows it. In season 1, episode 4, when Hira starts to get close to Kiyoi but then backs off, protesting that he’s just a “servant” and Kiyoi is his “king,” Kiyoi responds by telling him (in the Viki subtitle translation), “I don’t care if you chase your ideal of me, but leave the real me alone.” This dynamic, of course, is a huge theme in their relationship that continues all the way to the end of season 2 and beyond.

Those are some of the ways in which Hira insists on maintaining his idealized selfobject of Kiyoi. But there’s another way he clings to this idealization, which I think is harder to see at first: in order for Kiyoi to be elevated, Hira has to be beneath him. This is actually one of the most paradoxical parts of this paradoxical structure, because in Hira’s view, he has to be beneath Kiyoi in order for Kiyoi to be exalted, but by exalting Kiyoi, Hira’s status is raised. It sounds strange at first, but it’s not a new idea. The notion of humbly dedicating oneself to someone or something that you uphold as an ideal sounds like an act of self-abnegation, but in the minds of those who take on such a role, by affiliating themselves with this perfect person or thing, some of the magical aura of that perfection rubs off on them.

It’s a bit like members of the clergy in the past (in a Christian/European context), who were known to humble themselves completely, taking vows of poverty, depriving themselves in various ways, even mortifying their flesh. Through these humbling acts, these people were seen by themselves and others as closer to God than an ordinary person, potentially as a channel to God–even as someone who could actually speak for God. By humbling themselves and exalting their ideal, they became something greater than they would ever have been capable of being on their own. Hira’s approach is remarkably similar. In keeping with his description of Kiyoi as a kind of god, he talks about wanting to be a “nun.” (As I understand it, he’s describing a role more like that of a shrine maiden in Shintoism than a nun in any Christian tradition, but there’s enough similarity in those roles to justify the translation.) Basically, if you make your ideal person perfect enough, then even being their servant gives you a lot of status, especially if you’re their most devoted, indispensable servant.

I’m reminded of a passage from the novel here. In the novel version of the story, Kiyoi visits Hira at his new home. A different situation than the one in the series has led to him living alone for the first time, and as in the series, Kiyoi uses his need for a rehearsal space as an excuse to visit Hira there. The situation is somewhat different from the series, but similar in essentials. Hira and Kiyoi have a conversation that leads to an exchange that is equivalent to the conversation that takes place right after the finger incident in the series. In the novel, this scene is portrayed from Kiyoi’s point of view; anything in italics is his internal dialogue. (The ellipsis below is mine.)

‘What am I to you?’

‘The person I love most in the word.’

It was this firm response that gave Kiyoi courage.

‘Then, do you want to date me?’

Kiyoi felt his face burning. Just say yes. If you do, I’ll be able to be honest too. Kiyoi’s heart was pounding as he waited for Hira’s answer, but the answer he got was something that he hadn’t expected.

‘I don’t want to.’

Kiyoi blinked.

‘Why?’

…

‘Because you’re the king.’

‘Huh?’

Kiyoi’s eyes blinked even faster than before.

‘I mean…Kiyoi is like a king, and I’m merely an ordinary person who serves the king; it’s not like I do it out of obligation, but in my mind, I view myself as Captain Duck…Ah, by Captain Duck, I’m referring to a yellow toy in the shape of a duck that children play with in swimming pools or bathtubs, you know?’

–I know, but what does that have to do with it?

Not caring about Kiyoi, who wanted to ask something, Hira continued to explain about the duck. He kept babbling on and on about how Captain Duck once used to float in the sewage and was now proudly floating down a golden river as a prestigious toy of the king, and it was very satisfied with its current life.

(from this section of White Lotus’s novel translation)

Hira is explicit here about the servant/king relationship he envisions for himself and Kiyoi. But the rubber duck imagery is even more telling. Being a cheap toy, an inanimate object of so little value that it’s almost disposable, is more than enough for Hira as long as he can be associated with Kiyoi–if he can be ‘a prestigious toy of the king.’ Just belonging to Kiyoi, even (or especially?) as an insignificant object, equates to ‘proudly floating down a golden river.’ Again, placing Kiyoi in an exalted position and then abasing himself (while maintaining a link to Kiyoi) is Hira’s way of using idealization to achieve a paradoxical kind of status.

The conflict over Hira’s unrelenting idealization of Kiyoi comes to a head in season 2 when Hira fails to understand why his comment about Kiyoi and his parents having “nothing to do with one another” was hurtful.

Kiyoi: Do you not get how I feel right now?

Hira: I don’t!

Kiyoi: Think about it! If you don’t get it, think! [tapping Hira on the head]

Hira: Sorry.

Kiyoi: I don’t want you to apologize.

Hira: But…you’re mad at me.

Kiyoi: It’s always like this. I get mad, and you take the blame. But in reality you just don’t get it!

Hira: No, I don’t! The stars in the sky and the ones watching them will never align!

Kiyoi: What does space have to do with it?!

Hira: Because you and I are completely different! We’re in different dimensions and on different paths. That’s why stars shine so brightly! If I try to touch it or to understand it, all I’ll do is pull the star down to my level! So what I’m saying is…in reality…I don’t…want to understand you.

(dialogue translated by @lollipopsub)

Hira makes this dynamic very explicit here. It’s not just that he thinks Kiyoi is superior and his role is to serve him. He’s determined to actively resist interacting with Kiyoi on an even playing field. It’s particularly clear when he says, “If I try to touch it or to understand it, all I’ll do is pull the star down to my level.” Seeing things from Kiyoi’s point of view or touching him–metaphorically, and in some ways literally–would “pull [Kiyoi] down to [Hira’s] level.” Instead of raising Hira’s status, this would degrade Kiyoi’s. The distance between Kiyoi and Hira–the lack of understanding and meaningful contact–is (from Hira’s perspective) a feature, not a bug. It’s integral to the gratification Hira experiences when he watches Kiyoi as if he were a star–something both beautiful and trillions of miles away.

One sign of the importance Hira places on Kiyoi’s exalted social status is how irritated, even livid, he gets when other people don’t recognize and behave in accordance with his views on the social hierarchy and where they stand in relation to Kiyoi.

For example, when Shirota and his friends make shitty comments about Kiyoi after he doesn’t win the contest, they’re obviously being assholes. But what bothers Hira most is that they are acting as if Kiyoi failing to win a highly competitive national contest means he’s beneath them, when in fact, it’s unlikely any of them would have qualified as contestants, much less made it to the finals like Kiyoi did. To Hira, it’s their lack of understanding of their place in the hierarchy, their lack of recognition that Kiyoi is above them, that is most damning. Which is legitimately infuriating–they’re being incredibly arrogant. But personally, I think it’s clearly more important that they’re being critical and dismissive of someone they claim is their friend right when he has just gone through something very disappointing. That’s not a big concern for Hira, though. In addition to deriving a kind of status from his association with Kiyoi, he also finds some satisfaction in knowing that while his status in relation to Kiyoi is low, at least he can correctly gauge where he stands, unlike others.

And he seems to relish not only correctly assessing his place in the world but also maintaining a particularly lowly role. This isn’t inherent to idealization, though as I’ll talk about further, this combination of factors isn’t unique to Hira by any stretch. I mentioned that Hira’s perfectionism, among other things, is a way of attempting to, as Brene Brown put it, “avoid or minimize the painful feelings of shame, judgment, and blame.” Hira does have some grandiose beliefs about himself, but he also views himself as inferior in many ways. This tension creates the stuckness that often comes with perfectionism, and this blocks Hira from attaining goals that would fuel a more healthy kind of self-esteem. Gaining status through his association with an idealized version of Kiyoi gets around all of these problems.

Hira also seems to view his grandiose thoughts as a sort of jinx, a way of tempting fate. Think back again to his thoughts when he found out that he hadn’t made the first cut in the Young Photographica contest. “It felt like I was being ripped apart for being conceited.” In Hira’s world, having grandiose thoughts–or at least, buying into them–brings punishment. It’s better, and safer, to embrace total abjection. This is one more reason why it seems safest to put Kiyoi on a pedestal while placing himself in the most inferior position possible. At least, this seems safest until Hira realizes he could lose Kiyoi entirely if he doesn’t stop this destructive pattern.

When Hira does finally try to make a shift in how he relates to Kiyoi at the end of season 2, the big gesture he makes toward “look[ing] at [Kiyoi] straight on” is setting, then communicating, the goal of photographing Kiyoi in the role of professional photographer. This is a very appropriate way for him to make this move. Viewing Kiyoi more as an equal means having to relinquish some part of the status and self-worth he borrows from his idealized image of Kiyoi; this is the perfect time, then, for him to find some self-worth of his own by finally putting himself out there as a photographer and making a real effort to test his abilities.

That's it for this installment! I hope to get part 2 posted within the next week. Edited to add, four months later: That was a little unrealistic! But I'm determined to finish it off one of these days.

Edited to add:

Adding an edit here as I noticed what seems like a rather glaring omission. I failed to reference a scene that bears out a lot of what I have to say in this post. It happens when Hira is staying with Noguchi in Eternal. They have this exchange over ramen:

Noguchi: I was just like you in the past. All full of myself and thought that everything I saw was boring. I was always angry and all, "You're all worthless and should disappear!" Hira: I don't think we're alike at all, though. Noguchi: Having too much confidence and having too little confidence, they're two sides of the same paper in the sense that they're both signs of a damaged self-consciousness. Anything could make you switch sides at the drop of a hat.

(Emphasis mine.)

Citations for individual quotes are included with their respective quotes. The following sources were used:

When I quoted series dialogue, I used the wording @lollipopsub used in their (sadly no longer accessible in the US) fansub whenever possible. I lost access to this version so these quotes are from my notes.

I also quoted the Viki subs (which are good, just not quite as good as the ones @lollipopsub made) when needed. On one occasion I used the Viki version because it supported my point better.

When I quoted the novel, I quoted a fan translation by White Lotus featured on a site called Chrysanthemum Garden.

I also briefly quoted a short story translated by @sparkling-rain here.

When I quoted Eternal, I quoted a fansub that (at the subber’s request) will remain nameless.

[kitthepurplepotato]

Shenanigans Part 10

Part 10/ Bakugou Katsuki and the case of the fortune teller

Warnings: Swear words. That’s it.

Summary: Best Jeanist wants to go to a fortune teller. Bakugou hates the idea.

New to the story? Click here for the first part!

Check out the Master List for more content!

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Mr. Katsuki wakes up in a hospital.

It’s loud and cold and it smells like shit.

Mr. Katsuki wants to go back to sleep.

“Katsuki!” Kirishima’s loud and annoying voice comes through the haze in his brain, giving him a new kind of headache. “Are you okay?!”

“I was okay until you started yapping.” The blonde mumbles, definitely not ready for this shit yet.

First of all, he was absolutely manhandled by the Menace.

Second of all, he kinda liked being manhandled by the Menace.

He’s not sure which statement is worse. He really hopes these are only the side effects of his concussion, even though he wasn’t concussed when he first thought about them. Fuck.

“Thank god.” Shitty Hair sighs and looks at him with the look Katsuki hates the most; the look of pity. “Don’t fret too much, she was unfair. I can’t believe she…” Kirishima couldn’t finish the sentence as Bakugou’s palm crackled under the covers, leaving an unpleasant burning smell behind.

“What the fuck, Shitty hair!” The blonde screams. “She won fair and square. She distracted me and it worked. Yes, I fucking hate to lose but I know defeat when I see one.”

Even Katsuki can’t believe he just said these words. Maybe he does need to sleep a bit longer. A few hours maybe. Or a few weeks. Or he will just hibernate until the menace dies of old age so he never has to face his stupid shitty feelings.

“I’m really not sure if I should be proud of you for saying this or be concerned that you might have been brain washed by Y/N.”

“That’s it!” Comes the excited voice of Dynamight, his eyes sparkling with joy like he’s not in a hospital room after being beaten up by a girl half his size. “She brainwashed me! That’s why I feel all these weird things, like my heart can’t stop beating when I think of her stupid, flushed face looking down at me…”

“Well thank fuck it doesn’t, you would be dead, bruh.” Comments the redhead but his response remains unheard.

“And the way I don’t even feel bad for losing because she earned my respect! Yeah, fuck that, I was just brain washed!”

Kirishima’s best friend looks absolutely insane right now; his hair is tousled from the hospital pillow, his face is pale and there are massive bags under his eyes and a few bruises around his chin. He looks like the conspiracy theorist from that old meme. It’s hilarious and disturbing at the same time.

“… just… sleep a bit more, will ya? I think you are still not completely yourself.” Kirishima mumbles and leaves the room quicker than he does a burning building.

What the fuck did he just listen to?!

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

You really considered resigning at this point.

You made all the possible mistakes; you kicked your boss in the balls, you flirted with him in front of the whole office and made it absolutely obvious that you secretly have the hots for him and you also talked back to your other boss who only wanted to reprimand you for being an absolute ass.

You brought in a small box to put your stuff in, just in case you get fired today because fuck, you definitely will be.

Hm. You might as well start packing.

You start to put your knick knacks into your small little box one by one. You are so zoned out you don’t even realize when the door opens up with a loud bang.

“What the fuck are you doing, shithead?!” You can’t help but look up at the voice; you were absolutely sure you’ll never hear it again after what you’ve done.

“Mr. Dynamight, I’m…”

What the fuck are you supposed to say now?!

Hey, no need to fire me I’m on my way out anyway. Oh, also, here’s my number, call me, maybe? No? No worries, love you, bye.

“I don’t fucking care anyway, just stop it and get your jacket, we are going out with the stringy hoe.” The blonde says nonchalantly, like the last 2 days didn’t happen at all. Okay, now you are even more confused.

“Uhm, yes, I’m coming, yeah, no worries, really, I wasn’t about to resign anyway. Absolutely not.” You mumble with a red face and grab your jacket without asking more questions; if this is his way to lure you out of the building and kill you, so be it. It’s still better than being alone with him in the office.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Best Jeanist is a really weird person. He loves people and he cares about them, but at the same time; thanks to all the shit he has been through; he doesn’t really know what’s appropriate and what’s not. Shortly; he can’t read the room. At all. Like Shouto fucking bacon face Todoroki times 10. Hence why, a day after Mr. Katsuki gets his ass handed to him, his sexual frustration clear and obvious to everyone after the the shit they’ve pulled in the training room, Best Jeanist decides this is the right time to ask Katsuki, Kirishima and Menace out to a….

“…Trip to that famous fortune teller!” Best Jeanist finishes his sentence. There was probably something before that last part, but fuck if Katsuki knows, he was too busy thinking about… well… everything.

“The fuck?” Katsuki and the Menace barks into the awkward silence in unison.

So apparently there is this famous fortune teller in Japan who is able to tell your future with his quirk. Not the whole thing, but bits and pieces. Katsuki doesn’t really understand why is this such a big thing; he really doesn’t care about shit like that and he certainly doesn’t care about his sore knee at the age of 53 or about his 50 cats when he’s 70.

By the look on the Menace’s face, she’s going through the same thought process; they look at each other questioningly for a second before deciding to look away with a slight blush on their faces, like two fucking teenagers. They really need to get their shit together. They fought, Y/N won. End of the story. Nothing has changed, they still hate each other. They just had a moment in the middle of the battle. No biggie.

“Yeah, Mr. Jeanist, we can come with you!” Kirishima - as always - saves the day. Best Jeanist has a mischievous smirk on his face; Bakugou is not sure what makes the other blonde so excited about this, but at least he won’t be forced to talk to the menace today.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

People think Best Jeanist has nothing in his head but strings and clothing designs, but the truth is; he is a sucker for a good romance story.

Hence why he came up with the perfect plan to get his two favorite students together as soon as possible.

“So what’s the plan?” He asks Masato, the famous fortune teller, his hand holding out a thick envelope. The guy reaches out to take the envelope then looks inside; there is enough money to feed his 3 kids for at least a year. He has mouths to feed, so self-respect be damned.

“I’ll tell those two they are meant to be.” Mr. Masato smirks.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

This needs to be a scam.

The whole place just screams “fake”; the dark purple walls, the over-decorated tables, the massive amount of stones and crystals available for purchase at the counter, the crystal ball in front of the guy who looks like he’s cosplaying a magician from an MMO game; it’s so over the top it’s actually disgusting.

“Let’s get over with this, I have paperwork to finish.” The blonde mumbles, absolutely uninterested in this whole shenanigan.

Kirishima looks like a kid in a candy store; he’s all over the place, looking at every single crystal and right now he’s bothering the poor sales person with random questions about them. To be fair, he is absolutely adorable from afar, leaping around the room with an excited spark in his eyes. Kirishima is a precious little fuck.

“Kiri is so sweet, isn’t he? You just want to put him in your back pocket and keep him there to cuddle him when you’re lonely.”

Well, you didn’t want to say this out loud, but oh well. It’s out there now.

Apparently, this wasn’t the right thing to say as Dynamight’s palms sparked up and his eyes went even more red than usual.

“Oh yeah? Go and fuck him then, he’s single.” The blonde pouts angrily, stomping towards the confused fortune teller guy to sit down. Kirishima stares at you with a red face, like this is the first time someone complimented him in his sad life.

“Aww, you are so sweet when you pout, Mr.Katsuki!” You put your hands on your chest to dramatize your words. “I do have two back pockets, you can both take one, if you want!”

“I don’t share.” The blonde responds with a straight face and now it’s your time to blush like a teenager; did he just… flirt back?!

… or he might have the hots for Kirishima and he doesn’t want to share them.

What? It’s an option.

“I’m really confused by the relationship of you three.” The long forgotten Best Jeanist speaks up and sits down next to Katsuki.

“Well, you are at the right place to get answers for your questions!” The fortune teller guy speaks up and if you weren’t sure about this being a scam, now you are. He sounds like those guys in the TV advertisements, which is definitely a good thing when you work in the industry but it’s a little bit too much when you are only a fortune teller in a shitty tent.

“Let’s start with the blonde young man with the threatening aura!” The guy perks up, locking his eyes with Dynamight without an explanation. His eyes go blank and there are tiny pictures scrolling though his eyeballs, too small for a normal person to actually see. You cheekily start up your magnifying quirk to get a closer look at the pictures; there is one with you in it, kneeling in front of the crying Dynamight, cupping his cheek with teary eyes.

Okay, what the fuck?! That’s way to out of character for you two to actually happen.

There is another picture that makes you smile; Katsuki in his cute little glasses taking your hand in the middle of the city while rain pours all over you. He looks like the Katsuki from the other dimension, so he will probably find you in their own world, just how he promised.

Ahh, you miss that fucker so-so much. You really hope your other self will appreciate the boy the way you would appreciate him.

“No snooping, this is not your future! Well… technically.” The guy winks at you as he comes back to reality. “Mr. Bakugou Katsuki. You are a lucky little sod.” The guy smiles at the blonde. “I don’t want to go into too much details in case it changes the future, but… “ He sighs dramatically. “I can see you are a really strong and passionate person, kind of aggressive, hard to be around for a long amount of time.”

“No shit, Sherlock, everyone who owns a TV knows that.” The blonde scoffs, clearly unimpressed.

“That’s true. But would I know how much you seek comprehension and how much you secretly wonder if there will ever be a person romantically loving you for who you are?”

Well, one thing for sure, you are not going to question the guy’s abilities when it’s your turn, he clearly knows how to fight back.

“This is a fucking scam, I don’t think about any of those things! I’m absolutely fine by myself!” The blonde grumbles with his face all red, avoiding eye contact.

“Well, if you enjoy solitude, I have bad news for you; you won’t be alone for long.” The guy smiles and looks right at you as he winks again. You really want to tell him off for his bullshit, but you saw the pictures. If this is actually a scam then it’s a really good one at that, and you can’t help but respect his shenanigans.

For your surprise, Dynamight doesn’t scream at the guy again, instead he asks a question.

“So who’s the fucker who ruins my perfect life?” Katsuki almost whispers to the guy, who can’t help but smile at that.

“The one you’ve been constantly thinking about for the last two days.”

Katsuki grunts in response but doesn’t say anything else. The guy moves to the next person without a word while you wonder about the meaning of his reading; yes, you saw yourself in the pictures but non of them were romantic; you might have missed something, there might be someone else in Dynamight’s life. There is no way he is thinking about you so much, especially not after all the drama in the training room. He’s probably doing his best to forget those few hours so you can’t be the one the guy was talking about… right?

Kirishima is the next, the guy praises him for being the best friend and the best boyfriend the world has ever seen - Kirishima perks up from the sound of having a significant other in his future and he can’t stop smiling for the rest of the day. For Jeanist, his future isn’t as fluffy as the young one’s, the guy insist he needs to go on a vacation, but he gets some good news as well.

“Last one!” The guy moves to face you properly, and fuck, you are sooo not ready for this shit.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

“Last one!”

Oh. Katsuki zoned out for the entirety of Kirishima’s and Best Jeanist’s reading.

He has so much to think about; this whole reading sounded like the biggest scam until the guy laid him bare in front of his friends like a bitch. Katsuki didn’t lie when he said he’s happy being alone, but deep inside he always felt like there is something missing. The new feelings in his heart only made the void deeper; he can lie as much as he wants, but he absolutely loved the way his heart beat out of his chest from the sight of Y/N on the battle field. This doesn’t mean the Menace is the one though; she might have been at the right place at the right time to wake something up in Katsuki, sure, but it doesn’t mean she’s the one the guy was talking about.

“I will love you in every single universe.” Katsuki wakes up from his stupor to the future teller’s voice resonating in the small room. “I’m not sure what this means but it was a part of your reading and I really liked it.” He smiles at Y/N who’s red as a tomato. “You have quite a life story, miss Y/N. Or should I call you the Menace? As much as you insist hating that nickname your heart rate goes up every time you hear it, why is that, I wonder?” The guy does that fake chin touching/deep thinking face, and it’s extremely annoying. The menace doesn’t say a word, she’s clearly mortified. “You almost lost your life on the battle field…”

“That’s the past, not the future, you dimwit.” Katsuki interrupts.

“The past and the future are connected. I can see them both.” He responds, clearly tense from being interrupted in the middle of his reading. He takes a deep breath and continues. “…then you got dragged to another universe. You found something there you cherish, but let me tell you something; if you live in the past, you won’t see the bright future that’s ahead of you. Stop comparing those two and just look around; the path is clear and obvious, paved out for you to step on, yet you still stumble on the dirty, uneven grass.” He sighs again with his back hitting the back of his chair as an indication that the reading is done. “Also, there is a wedding in the future for all of you. Not yours, though. Someone else’s. But you’ll see when you get back to your office.”

A wedding? Another lie. There is no one around Bakugou who’s about to marry, this needs to be another bullshit.

“Thank you for your service, Mister!” Kirishima perks up and makes his way out of the building, skipping around like a lovesick fool. He clearly doesn’t care if it’s fake or not. He’s really easy to please.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

You were just about to leave the building when you felt a shoulder bumping into your own.

“Oii, fuckstick.” Bakugou speaks up, but instead of his usual fury, his voice is calm and subtle. You look up at the blonde; he is looking at you with hesitation in his eyes. “It was a good fight. Thanks… for doing that.” The blonde mumbles, his shoulders bumping into you again affectionately. “Can we stop being weird about it? It’s really annoying. I can’t fucking focus.”

Okay, what the hell is happening?! First the unintentional (or intentional?) flirting, now the shoulder touches and if that’s not enough to lose your shit, Bakugou just said the work “thanks”.

You died and this is your personal heaven. That needs to be it. This can’t be happening right now. If you need to look at his blushing face another second you’re going to propose.

If this is real life, then this needs to be temporary. Don’t get your hopes up. This is just a moment of weakness from the blonde. The sudden rising of your heart rate has nothing to do with your feelings, you probably just had way too much coffee in the morning.

“Yeah, it was really nice….” Oh fuck, those are not the right words! “I mean, it was a good fight. You are great. In fighting, I mean. Thanks. Yeah. Let’s do it again?” Jesus fuck, why did you say that?!

“You want a rematch?” The blonde laughs while he walks towards his car. “Yeah, I don’t mind pinning you to the floor again….” The blonde’s eyes open wide in a surprise when he realizes what he’d just said. His blush gets even deeper. It’s absolutely adorable. “I mean, I will definitely win next time. Yeah. I will clean the floor with your blood while using you as a mop…head. Yeah.” He stutters and opens the door for you to jump in. “Want a ride, Number One?”

“Y-yeah, Number Two.” You grin at the blonde as his face contorts into an angry frown.

“I hate you so much.”

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

The ride was absolutely exhilarating. Katsuki drives like a badass and he also has a good taste in music; that didn’t stop you from making fun of his taste though. You were bickering the whole time like two dumb teenagers and thankfully, this cleared the air enough to get rid of all the tension between you two. Everything is back to normal, thank fuck.

As you make your way into your shared office you find 2 envelopes on Bakugou’s desk; one for him and one for you. It’s gold and sparkly and smells like a fancy perfume.

It’s a wedding invitation.

“Fuck, that bloke was right.” Bakugou’s surprised voice fills the room. “But wait, I thought Denki and Jirou broke up again a few weeks ago?” The blonde asks, confused by the whole situation. The wedding invitation clearly states their name, so…

“Well, apparently I give great love advice.” You answer proudly; Denki did message you a few weeks after your meet up to say thank you, so you are not lying.

“Yeah, you are that middle aged person who hooks everyone up but can’t get a bitch herself.” Dynamight fucking giggles, the area around his eyes wrinkle happily with every movement. Who is this person and what happened to Dynadick?!

“Bakugou, we are far from being middle aged!” You snicker, with a slight blush on your face. “And also, low blow!” You try your best to look offended. “You know what, it’s fine, I won’t be lonely, because you’ll be there with me, you forever alone dipshit.”

Was it always this easy to fuck around with him or is this just a special occasion?

Why is it so hot in here?

Oh lord, this is bad.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

“I had a really weird day.” Mr. Masato tells his assistant while he drinks his beer like it’s water. “So this guy gave me a shit load of money to lie to these two people about their future; to make it look like they belong together and shit.” The jug knocks on the table aggressively as he continues his rant. “So the two came in, they literally looked like they hated each other, so I started to feel really bad about this prank… but then I read them and… they were actually connected by fate. They can literally fuck up every single thing and they’ll end up with each other anyway. I’ve never seen a bond so unbreakable. So I got this shit load of money and I didn’t even have to lie. I feel like I won the lottery.”

The assistant stares at him like this is the first time he heard human speech then throws up on the floor. Just like that.

“Good talk.” Mr. Masato sighs and stares into the space with dead eyes.

Mr. Masato feels like this is a great time to finally retire.

-> Next Part

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Yes, I know I said I’ll be working on another project, but I’m in love with this story so much!

So, how are you guys feeling about the budding romance? I am absolutely thrilled! I literally want to cry from happiness!

Also, you won’t need to wait long for the next part as it’s already done! Might post it sooner if I see some comments under this part! No pressure. Really. 🙄 💜

As always,reblogs, likes and comments are appreciated, they make my day 💜

Thank you for reading! 💥💜

Taglist: @ibkg @chuugarettes @lilmaimai

@nonomesupposedto @sozainturpal @luleck @notplutos

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[stevetonyweekly]

SteveTony Weekly - January Podfic

New this year, I’ll be sharing a list of podfic I listened to throughout the previous month on the last day of the month. I’m a few days late this month, but here’s the fic I loved to listen to this month. 

[Podfic] Nor An Evil Tongue Bewitch by M_Samro 

The thing about kisses is that they always come at the end of the story.

Steve's life has had an awful lot of endings.

I wish I could explain the way I love this fic, how lyrical and lovely it is?? M_Samro does an amazing job with the podfic, highly recommend.

[Podfic] The Sound Silence Makes by seleneaurora

“We need exactly what we don’t have,” Tony observed, annoyed and tired. He started to giggle and couldn’t stop himself. “Power.”

He cast a glance back at the door, sealed shut behind him, and he didn’t foresee the cavalry charging through anytime soon with a generator and a bomb kit. Tony took a deep breath and asked, “How much reserve power does the suit have, J?”

“The suit is currently running on the arc reactor, sir. You have approximately one hour of power remaining before the reactor reaches critical levels.”

Team dynamics are everything, and the way that Tony is just--his usual self-sacrificial idiot self is perfection.

[Podfic] In All the World by kalakirya

In a world where Sentinels, people with five heightened senses, bond mentally and spiritually with Guides, people gifted with empathetic powers, Tony Stark has spent thirty-three years overwhelmed by the emotions of those around him and running from his own. Sentinel Steve Rogers wakes up sixty years out of his own time and struggles to deal with the massive amount of new sensory input while trying to find his footing in a New York very different from the one he knew. When they finally find each other, how will their bond change them?

I've never watched the media Sentinel AUs are based off of, but I adore them, and this one is excellent, and the podfic is just--perfect.

Hide Your Love Away, by Sineala, (podfic) by cookiemom6067 

Tony has suspected for a long time that the soulmark on his chest matches Steve's -- but he's never told Steve about it. And then it's too late to tell Steve anything at all ever again. In the wake of Steve's death, the Skrull invasion, and Norman Osborn's rise to power, the identity of his soulmate is just one of the many things Tony cuts out of his memory forever.

When Tony returns to consciousness, he's forced to deal with the aftermath of a war he no longer remembers fighting, not to mention a Steve Rogers who can barely stand to be in the same room with him. Surely the last thing Tony could ever need in his life is more amnesia. But that's what he gets. And Tony's new missing memory just might be the key to finding out the truth of his soulmark... as well as his chance to make things right once and for all.

SOULMATE AU. One of my favorites, which is saying something. The narration for @sineala work is amazing.

[podfic] Degrees of Separation by plingo_kat, reena_jenkins

Oh god, what if Jarvis infected Dummy with, with emotions. Jesus Christ.

I honestly expected this to be fluffier than it was. And somehow I haven't actually read the fic? Which startled me. Oops.

[Podfic] Scars and Stitches by Cathalinareads (Cathalinaheart)

When Tony shows up to SHIELD to be fitted with the Iron Man armor, Steve, the original Iron Man, is there to help him out.

I have a huge soft spot for Bullet Points and this fic is just--so good. Iron Man Steve is so dear to me.

[Podfic] Straight on till Morning by Sineala by M_Samro

This is a podfic for the amazing masterpiece that is Sineala's "Straight on till Morning" which is summarized thusly:

Tony Stark resigned his commission in Starfleet five years ago, after a disastrous away mission, and he swore he'd never go back. He just wants to be left alone to build warp engines in peace. But the universe has more in store for him than that, as he discovers when Admiral Fury comes to him with an offer he could never have expected and cannot possibly refuse: first officer and chief engineer aboard the all-new USS Avenger, a starship of Tony's own design. What's more, the Avenger's captain is Steve Rogers, hero of the Earth-Romulan War. Believed dead for over a century, Steve is miraculously alive... and very, very attractive.

But nothing is ever easy for Tony. As he wrestles with his secret desire for his new captain and his not-so-dormant fears, another mission starts to go wrong, and Tony becomes aware that Steve has secrets of his own -- and the truth could change everything.

I'm gonna be honest. This is one of my favorite fics ever. Not just in the Stevetony fandom, like. Ever. As a fic, it's practically perfect (which is a feat considering my adoration for Star Trek) and the podfic somehow makes it even BETTER. The narration and production M_Samro brings to it is truly amazing, and I always cry through certain parts of the podfic. I chattered about the podfic on Twitter while I listened and the outpouring of love for this fic and podfic made me ridiculously happy.

[sunflowersoldat]

All is Fair ~ Chip and a Chair (Epilogue Pt. 2)

Epilogue Pt. 2

Previous Chapter

Main Master List

Series Master List

Series Summary: Family is important, but so is the Family business. Everyone has secrets, some are deadly. Your the best in the business, but no one knows who you are. Tensions are high, will you raise the stakes or fold under pressure?

Series Warnings: 18+! Mentions of blood and violence, bad language words, smut, manipulation, gaslighting, death, trauma, please follow the warnings for each chapter.

Chapter warnings: Bad language words.

Pairing: Mob!Steve x Assassin!Stark!reader

Word count: approx. 1.3K

A/N: This is it! Steve and Ace's story has come to an end, I have enjoyed sharing their story with you! It's been a really long journey, and I love this series, it has been bittersweet to write these last few parts. I digress, I hope you enjoy this chapter and have enjoyed the series!

Bucky sat at Steve’s desk, massaging the bridge of his nose, his shoulders tense. Everything was finally starting to run smoothly, it had been utter chaos when he had returned to New York without Steve. He knew the job was hard and Steve shouldered most of the weight of the stress and responsibility. Bucky supposed he really hadn’t understood how much Steve truly shielded them from; how much he handled on his own. 

Although business had been running smoother now, he couldn’t take credit for it, not even Sam or Wanda had taken the reins. But Queens, he stepped up without hesitation, gave orders with a confidence Bucky had only seen in him within the last year: when it had to do with Ace.

The kid was turning out to be a miniature version of Steve, but somehow better. Queens was merciful and soft, unless it dealt with the men, he gave orders that didn’t leave room for rebuttals. Was a bit of a hard-ass, especially with him and Sam, but he valued what they had to say. Taking their expertise into consideration, he respected them, they were family, but business was business and he was very no nonsense about it.

The knock at the office door shook him from his thoughts. Wanda stepped into the room, auburn hair gathered over one shoulder, long and unbound. A resigned look in her eyes, they were all exhausted, they missed their boss; their brother.

A small smile reluctantly pulled at her lips, “The desk job doesn't suit you…”

The glimmer of playfulness giving the smallest amount of light to her eyes, “Someone’s gotta do it.”

She nods slowly, walking closer as she places the daily mail in front of him on the desk, she sighs. “I can think of a good replacement,” her brows raise in emphasis, eyes shifting to the open door.

Bucky shakes his head, “When Steve gets back he can promote the kid,��� sifting through the envelopes, one with his name scrawled across the front without any addresses catches his eye.

“It’s been a year Bucky…”

He holds up his metal hand, face hardening, “Who delivered the mail?”

Wanda shrugs, “I’m not sure it was on the front desk when I arrived. Why?”

His name is elegantly scrawled on the front, his heart thundered in his chest, he isn't familiar with the penmanship. Inside, is a postcard, the picture on the front is of a couple, the angle off kilter, a little blurry, like the camera is being swatted away. A delicate female hand blocks most of the view of their faces. His stomach folds, he can make out two sets of very familiar eyes. The glint of a silver band is seen on the inside of her hand, circling her ring finger. Flipping the postcard he is met with familiar handwriting that he’s known for most of his life: 

Buck,  I don’t know what to say. I could tell you ‘I am sorry’ but that would be a lie. What I can say is, I’m fine. More than that actually, I’m happy. If it wasn’t clear, I won't be coming back, the business is all yours pal. I trust you to do the right thing. Don’t bother looking for me, as far as the world knows, Steve Rogers is dead. I hope all is well with the family.  Love you Buck, Punk. P.s Angel says ‘Hello, Boinky’ and to ‘quit wallowing in self hatred and regret.’ 

“Sonofabitch,” Bucky breathes. He can’t help the smile that pulls at his lips or the near hysterical laugh that bursts from his chest. Wanda’s eyes widen as she pulls the card from his grasp, fresh tears prick at her eyes, slipping down her cheeks.

“He found her?” She whispers.

Bucky quiets himself, pulling the wild card from his pocket. “I had my suspicions… She left this for me, knowing I’d understand what it meant.”

Wanda slaps at his arm, “You didn’t think you should tell us?!”

He chuckles, “I had to be sure. Now, I am sure.”

She huffs, a smile breaking across her face, “You’re a bastard Barnes.” Her tone is everything but serious as she rolls her eyes, bringing her attention back to the postcard.

She opens her mouth to speak but is cut off by Sam knocking on the open office door, “You got a visitor Buck.”

Bucky shakes his head, “Not now.”

Sam raises his brows, pursing his lips, “Yeah good luck with that.”

A blonde enters the room, he had run into her many times in the past, but didn’t consider her a friend.

“Detective Carter.” He greeted her coolly, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

She smiled deviously, “I thought I would stop by and offer a bit of information…” she pauses sucking her teeth, badge glistening on her hip as she sways, “let’s just say, if something happened to Steve’s business and his family, I’d make an enemy out of a very good friend.”

Bucky raised a brow, but remained silent.

“So Barnes, I’m here to tell you to keep a keen eye on yourself and your men, and if you need anything, just give me a call.”

The detective and right hand to the dealer blinked at him in boredom, she was deadly, he knew that, but he couldn’t help but wonder why she worked for Zemo, what had caused her to become a dirty cop. For now he would play nice, he knew he should be thanking you for ensuring no more blood was shed, but he didn’t trust any of them for a second.

He nodded, rising from his seat, offering the detective his hand. She took it, “I look forward to working with you Detective Carter.” 

Her smile again split her lips, it surprised something deep within him that her teeth weren’t filed into dagger-like points, “Likewise Mr. Barnes.”

She turned from him and began leaving, but stopped abruptly, “Oh, and by the way, Fury told me the FBI is sending in a team from Boston: Nicknamed Bull and White, also known as The Sharks. They specialize in putting your kind behind bars.”

Turning she blew him a kiss, “Goodluck.”

Sam and Wanda share a look, but Sam clears his throat, “No better time to test the kid’s resolve than now…”

“We’d be throwing him into the lion’s den!” Bucky snapped, running his hand through his hair.

“He’ll do fine Buck, he’s got us.” Sam pushes.

As if on cue, Peter walks into the room, “was that Detective Carter?”

His voice falters, taking in the group now staring at him.

Bucky takes a deep breath, “So Boss, what’s our next move?”

Peter only hesitates for a second before a smile curves his lips, “I think we need to speak with our new friends Pepper, Zemo, and Yelena before we move forward.”

Bucky shakes his head with a smile on his face, “You heard him, call a meeting. No one steps foot in this city without us knowing about it.”

Sam and Wanda move to leave the room, “And for fucks sake, find out who these jokers Bull and White are!”

As Bucky leaves, Peter stops him, “You think I can handle it?”

Bucky shakes his head, “better than anyone I know kid…” he pauses, trying to find the right words. Though Peter and his relationship has mended little by little, it would never be what it was before Ace crashed into their lives. “They’d be proud of you kid. Hell, I’m proud of you and with you every step of the way.”

A smile curved Peter’s lips, “be my Right Hand?”

“For you? Anything. You want this public?”

Peter shook his head, “no, not yet. Let them think you took over in Steve’s absence. But when the time is right…”

Bucky nodded in understanding, Yelena may have taken over Thor’s territory, Pepper may have taken Tony’s place, they may all be getting along now, but people would still come from all over to stake their claim.

There were always bigger fish, and now there was blood in the water.

@dontbescaredtosingalong @texan-tazzy @tianamontag @daiseychaindisaster @silently-killing-you @buckyfan12 @leyannrae @justlovelifeblog @austynparksandpizza @capson-of-coul @betareader7 @vicmc624 @bigphattygyal @calwitch @buckysteveloki-me @curlyladylazarus111 @talesofadragon @trudy-shams

[bluenet13]

Uninvited Visitors and Other Relationship Tests

Tim thinks he's opening the door for a delivery guy at Lucy's apartment, but instead finds himself face-to-face with none other than Chris Sanford.

AO3

Lucy's stomach grumbles and wakes her up. She stretches and yawns, turning over in bed to face Tim who's still sleeping soundly. She considers making him breakfast, but her body is still tired from their activities the night before and she can't resist the urge to snuggle up to him instead.

"Hey, don't sleep our day off away," she whispers by his ear, and pokes him playfully in the side. "I've got plans for us today."

Tim opens one eye and looks at her sleepily. He gives her a loopy smile that is way too adorable, and she almost melts at the sight. "Give me a minute and I'll make us some breakfast," he says, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her close.

"I was thinking we could stay in bed and order brunch instead," Lucy proposes, pushing him back against the bed when he starts to get up and straddling him. He lets out a surprised laugh and she takes advantage of his shock to lean forward to steal a chaste kiss.

Lucy pulls back and Tim chases after her lips, huffing frustratedly when she moves out of reach. "I thought you had plans for the day?"

"Who says my plans are not just staying in bed all day with you?" Lucy says with a laugh, trailing her fingers up and down his arms.

Tim chuckles and relaxes against the mattress. He grabs his phone from the bedside table, pulling up the Grubhub app and opening their list of favorites. "What do you want to order?"

Lucy rattles off a few items, and Tim nods as he fills out their order. He picks a dish for himself, a couple of extra ones in case they don't want to cook dinner either and throws his phone back on Lucy's side of the bed. "Food won't be here for at least half an hour, any ideas on how to fill the time?"

Lucy nods and grins mischievously. "I'm sure we'll think of something."

Before Tim can even react, Lucy leans in and kisses him passionately, her hands running over his body. He responds instinctively, holding her hips and pulling her closer before kissing her again. She lets a happy giggle, the softness of his lips still catching her off guard, just as she's not expecting the sudden stiffness of other parts of him. She reaches right into his boxers as his hands move up to cup her breasts.

Their kisses deepen and their bodies press together in a tangle of limbs, lost in their passion and desire for each other. As they explore each other's bodies, their whispered words become more urgent, driving them both towards the edge of ecstasy. But their pleasure is interrupted by the insistent sound of the doorbell, causing them to start and nearly fall off the bed in surprise.

"Damn it," Tim mutters, hastily pulling on a pair of sweatpants and stumbling towards the door. He opens it without checking the peephole, assuming it's the delivery guy, but on the other side it's none other than Chris Sanford.

Tim's smile fades, replaced by an uncomfortable frown because Chris is definitely not the Grubhub driver. This is quite the compromising position, and he can barely restrain a groan as he takes in Chris's disapproving expression as he notices his state of undress. Tim is shirtless, his sweatpants hanging low on his hips, his hair tousled, and his lips swollen. He's not wearing shoes or socks, and there's a telltale mark on his shoulder. His whole demeanor screams sex and they both know it.

"What are you doing here, Sanford?" Tim asks, attempting to sound civil, though he mentally chides himself for disregarding his own rules and opening the door without checking first.

Chris hesitates, then his eyes flick over Tim's shoulder and land on Lucy, who has just emerged from the bedroom in one of Tim's shirts. His face falls, and Tim can see the anger and hurt mixed in with the resignation in his expression.

"I, uh, I need to pick up some things I left here," Chris tries, but it sounds weak.

The tension in the room thickens as Lucy steps up beside Tim, her hand resting on his back. "I gave all your things to Wesley," she says calmly.

"Oh," Chris breathes out, his eyes darting around the room. "Maybe I need to look in the box again." The evidence of Lucy's new relationship is right in front of him, and a better man would leave, but instead he swallows hard and takes a deep breath. He then pulls out a piece of paper from his pocket and hands it to Lucy. "I also wanted to show you this."

Lucy takes the paper, her heart racing as she recognizes what it is. She reads it slowly as Tim seizes him up. "Chris, what's this?" she asks, her eyes widening. She suddenly remembers her conversation in the shop with Tim when she insisted Ashley was expecting Tim to propose in Hawaii and wonders if Chris might have had similar plans.

"It's plane tickets to Honolulu," Chris states, his voice shaking slightly. "I thought he would have been living together for a few months by now and I wanted to do something nice to surprise you. I got them before you broke up with me."

Lucy feels a pang of guilt at his confession, but quickly pushes it down. She thinks back to the time he hummed the song, and then how he tried to pressure her into buying a house. She's not the bad guy here. Neither is he, really. They're just not compatible that way. She opens her mouth to gently turn him down, but Chris steps forward and cuts off whatever she was going to say.

"I know we had some problems, but I was hoping we could still go on this trip and maybe start over," Chris explains, his smile falling as he notices Tim's arm around Lucy's shoulders. "But I see you have already started over," he adds, trying but failing to keep his anger completely out of his voice.

"I'm sorry, Chris," Lucy says, because that's the best thing she can offer. She never intended to hurt him, but as cliché as it sounds, the heart wants what it wants, and hers had wanted Tim for a while. She just never thought she could have him.

"Yeah, I'm sorry too," Chris says, beginning to turn around but he thinks better of it. "Were you guys together before? When we were still dating."

Lucy shakes her head, and looks up at Chris, hoping he can see the sincerity in her gaze. "No. Nothing happened until after we broke up." She fails to say that she did break up with him because of Tim, but that truth is not going to help anyone.

Chris nods, his eyes downcast. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I believe you." He stuffs his hands in his pockets and huffs a tired sigh. "For whatever it's worth, I hope you guys are happy."

"We are." Tim and Lucy answer simultaneously and intertwine their fingers.

"So... I'm going to go," Chris says awkwardly.

Tim clears his throat and deadpans, "That's probably a good idea." He crosses his arms over his chest and gives Chris a once-over. He's not jealous, but he also doesn't want Chris in Lucy's space any longer than necessary.

Chris shifts his weight from one foot to the other and turns his attention to Tim, narrowing his eyes slightly. "Take care of her," he says, his voice serious.

Tim nods, his grip on Lucy's hand tightening slightly. "Goodbye, Sanford."

"Goodbye, Lucy. Goodbye, Bradford." Chris waves and walks away, turning to look back at Lucy one final time before he gets in the elevator, but her door is already closed.

"Are you okay?" Tim asks as soon as they're alone again. He brushes the hair from her face and tips her chin to look up at him.

Lucy raises onto her toes and presses her lips to his. When she pulls back, she nods and whispers, "I'm relieved. Everyone at the station already knows but I knew Chris would find out eventually and I was dreading it. I'm glad that's done."

Tim nods in understanding, but their moment is interrupted by the doorbell. Peering through the peephole, Tim exhales in relief when he sees that it's actually the delivery guy with their food.

After grabbing the bags and thanking the man, Tim falls back against the door with a laugh. "Well, this has been an eventful morning. Next time, we should spend the night at my place instead."

Lucy laughs as she takes the bags from him and heads to the kitchen. "Yeah, so Ashley can show up and try to rekindle your romance."

Tim shudders at the thought and pushes himself off the door. He spanks Lucy playfully on his way to the kitchen and chuckles at her startled gasp.

"I'm sorry about that. I had no idea he was going to show up like that," Lucy says as they sit down to eat.

Tim shakes his head and squeezes her hand that's resting on the table. "It's okay. It's not your fault. I'm actually glad he knows we're together now."

Lucy hums her agreement. She can't help but feel a sense of relief at the unexpected turn of events. Chris finding out was bound to happen eventually and she's happy that's out of the way now. Her history with Chris is over and she's finally free to fully move forward with Tim.

They eat in comfortable silence for a few minutes before Tim speaks up again. "Hey, I was thinking... You mentioned wanting to spend all day in bed. Are you still interested? We could watch a movie or something."

Lucy's eyes light up as she looks up at him. "You read my mind," she exclaims.

They crawl back into bed, with Lucy's laptop resting on Tim's outstretched legs. She leans her head on his shoulder, and he wraps his arms around her, holding her close.

"I'm really glad we're together, Lucy," Tim murmurs, kissing her forehead.

"Me too," she replies, smiling up at him. "I feel like everything just fell into place when we got together."

Tim smiles back at her, his eyes warm and full of affection. "I love you," he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I love you too, Tim," she replies, her voice just as soft.

He kisses her temple and Lucy feels warmth spread through her chest as she turns her head for a proper kiss. It's a small moment, but it feels significant somehow. As they pull away, Lucy realizes that she's never felt this content and at peace before. It's like everything that's happened in her life has led her to this moment, to him.

They watch the movie (pausing every once in a while to make out like teenagers), eat dinner in bed and spend most of their day wrapped up in each other's embrace. And as Lucy closes her eyes that night, she knows she's exactly where she's meant to be.

[ejzah]

The Other Shoe, Part 11

***

A week from the day Deeks accepted Sam’s offer, he, Kensi, and Sam all sat in Dr. Nehme’s office to complete the initial part of the donor process. Later today, they’d meet with Deeks’ entire transplant team to discuss the next steps.

“Mr. Hanna, since being a living donor comes with not insignificant risks and possible lifelong changes, there’s some things we need to go over,” Dr. Nehme told Sam.

“It’s Sam. And I already know the risks and I’m not having any second thoughts,” Sam replied calmly. While Kensi and Deeks were both obviously nervous, he seemed perfectly at ease. “Deeks has saved my life more times than I can count, gave me four more years than I would have had with my wife, and is one of the people I trust most. He’s my brother.”

Deeks squeezed Kensi’s hand, touched and overwhelmed by Sam’s words.

“I understand why you want to help him,” Nehme said gently. “It’s a courageous and selfless thing you’re doing. However, I find especially when it comes to friends and family, that sometimes the outcome and risks can be unexpected. I want to make sure we’re all on the same page.”

“Believe me, I’ve done my research. But go ahead; I know you have a protocol to follow.” Sam lifted his hand for the doctor to continue, and Nehme blinked a couple times in bemusement at having his meeting hijacked.

Deeks had a feeling Dr. Nehme was in for a trying time as he met more of the team. He’d have to warm him before he encountered Eric and Nell with their ever mounting pile of nephrology research.

“Ok then. I like to start by discussing the short term risks immediately following surgery. Obviously, there’ll be pain—”

Kensi snorted, pressing her lips together when all three men turned to look at her in sunrise. “Sorry,” she apologized. “Once you get into his medical history, I think you’ll understand.”

“I’ve had a few…incidents with work,” Sam explained vaguely.

“Yes, I noticed,” Nehme commented dryly. “Very impressive. Alright, moving on. There are also risks for infection, pneumonia, blood clotting issues, collapsed lung, issues with the urinary tract, and of course, death. Now, some of these are mitigated by your excellent health, prior injuries aside.”

“Do you have percentages for these risks?” Deeks asked.

“Not at the moment, but I can provide them if you’d like.”

“Relax, Deeks,” Sam said. “I’m not concerned.”

Deeks ignored him. “Thank you, doctor. I’d appreciate that. What about the long term risks. I read that some donors develop high blood pressure afterwards.”

“Yes, that and other chronic conditions are a possibility,” Nehme agreed.

“My family hasn’t had high blood pressure, cholesterol, or diabetes going back four generations,” Sam spoke up again. “And even if that happens, I can handle it better than you can with kidney disease. So hush up, and let the doctor finish.”

“Thank you, Mr. Hanna,” Nehme said wryly. “There are some other details you can look over before we meet with the entire team, but I did want to emphasize that this will likely impact your livelihood. I understand you hold a law enforcement position, and living donors are often restricted from that type of career.”

“I’m aware. I’ve made my peace with that possibility.” Sam glanced back at Deeks as he said it, as though he wanted to make sure Deeks hear and understood him. “I didn’t make this decision lightly or impulsively.”

“Well, then I think that’s everything for now. I’ll see you back with the entire team in an hour.”

***

“So, how’s it feel?” Sam asked as they walked out of the medical complex. After four hours, and multiple meetings, they had a plan to go forward. “In a little less than a month, you’ll have a new kidney. Well, slightly used, but in perfect condition.

Deeks smiled around a yawn; after everything today, he felt completely exhausted. Which wasn’t that usual these days.

“A little surreal,” Deeks admitted. Having resigned himself to being on the donor waiting list, it now felt strange that everything was now moving ahead so quickly.

Beside him, Kensi threaded her fingers through his, leaning into his side.

“I know I already said this, but, uh, thank you, Sam. This is such an incredible sacrifice. A gift.”

“Yes,” Kensi murmured, gratitude in her eyes. “Thank you, Sam.”

“Hey, I can’t have you going on without your shaggier half.” Smirking, he squeezed each other their shoulders, his sobering slightly. “I meant what I said,” he continued, speaking directly to Deeks. “There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you.

“Man, you can’t keep saying things like that,” Deeks muttered, clearing his throat roughly. “The medication has me crying at Folgers commercials.”

“Now, don’t get yourself too worked up, cause I’d do it for anyone on the team,” Sam said teasingly.

“Kilbride?”

Sam grimaced at Deeks suggestion. “Eh, I’d have to consider.”

“What about Rogers?” Kensi asked.

“Now you’re just being ridiculous.” Releasing them with a final squeeze, Sam nodded towards the parking lot. “C’mon, let’s get some food. You’re looking too damn scrawny, Deeks.”

***

A/N: After a very long break, I’m back with this story. I hope you still enjoy it. As always, I try to make the medical elements somewhat realistic, but there will be mistakes or irregularities.

[fuck-customers]

I may or may not have done an oopsie at work by talking back to my boss. Long rant, sorry.

Follow up, I was the anon who sent in a message about how me and another coworker drew pictures for Christmas on our personal work whiteboard and my boss got butthurt over it cause he’s a douche, so I drew a picture of the grinch directed at him.

He sent out a message initially saying the “graffiti” was unacceptable etc and I didn’t respond because either I’d have to A) kiss his ass and lie like a suck up or B) tell him to get fucked . Both of which options didn’t seem viable, so I opted to ignore it.

Cut to today, a few weeks later. I wake up after doing an overnight shift to a message from him. He’s detailing how my close was unacceptable and going off about my coworker drawing on the board, again (said coworker already handed in his letter of resignation last week and so we both decided to just leave it up as somethin of a fuck you cause ya can’t get fired if you quit).

The message was detailing things I’d made sure were done, and prep that wasn’t completed that should’ve been done by the day shift people.

I was half asleep, in a bad mood and sick of months of this crap so I went off. Debated all his points, told him the prep wasn’t my sole responsibility and several things he listed had in fact been done by us. That the day people need to start pulling their weight and this issue of me coming in to nothing done has been ongoing for weeks. I tried to keep civil but made it very apparent he wasn’t going to speak to me like that without getting shit back. I reminded him that majority of my closes are great and I work myself to the fucking bone to make sure the opening people come in to a clean environment (not because I care abt the job, but because I want the opener to have an easy job), but mistakes happen and I don’t want to be constantly under threat of disciplinary action because I’m a fucking tired human being.

He responded with something like “I’ll speak to the day people to let them know this is an issue” to which I said that shouldn’t be the only take away he gets from this, and I don’t want to be constantly worried that if I leave so much as a crumb on the floor I’ll be hunted down over it. Said that behaviour like this is reason my coworker quit and may be the reason I quit as well as they’re already not paying me enough to warrant wanting to keep this job as it stands and I’m over this unhealthy work environment.

He hasn’t responded to that last part yet. Coworker and I are joking that either he’s too stunned that a ‘mere employee’ bit back, or he’s planning to murder me. I know I should be concerned, and the safest course of action would’ve been to bend over backwards going “yes sir, of course sir” but I’m tired of this place and looking to quit anyway and boss is a piece of shit who’s called us employees ‘just numbers’ numerous times, so fuck him anyway. I’ve been so overworked, stressed and burnt out for months now that I’m just unable to feel it anymore.

TLDR; boss tried to berate me through text so I bit back and basically told him to fuck off cause I don’t need this job as much as they need me 🤗

[a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all]

A Picture's Worth 1000 Words (Alt. POV Rick Flag Rewrite)

Fandom: DC, The Suicide Squad, Rick Flag

Summary: It was an accident, something you were never supposed to see. But when you had asked to borrow his notes, it never crossed Rick's mind what else was in that notebook...

Word Count: 2733

TW: Fluff, Love Confession

Original Drabble

For Rick, briefing days were the worst. Not only did Waller always start them off by droning on for an hour about all their recent mistakes before ever getting to their latest assignment, but it was time he could be spending with you. Sure, you were sitting a few seats over from him, but it felt like a million miles away when he couldn’t talk to you, couldn’t make jokes about Waller’s latest fashion catastrophe, couldn’t make snide comments about her finding fault in everything they did on the mission. But today it seems it didn’t really matter anyway.

You were usually so on top of your game, so it was surprising to see you had actually let yourself nod off in the middle of the meeting. However, as much as you had been running yourself ragged these past few weeks, he was glad you were getting some rest. But still, Rick wondered if he should try and wake you up. If Waller saw you, there would be hell to pay. So, reluctantly, Rick took his pen and lightly poked you in the back of the head. You shifted slightly but didn’t wake up. He tried again, but then winced when the pen became entangled in your hair. But when he let it go and it stuck, his concern quickly shifted to glee.

Years ago after a particularly boring meeting, Rick had fallen asleep just to wake up to his normal American flag baseball cap replaced with one that read “I’m with stupid” with an arrow pointing down. It had taken close to an hour after the meeting (and a bunch of snickering and pointing in the halls) for him to realize it. He had sworn revenge, but you proposed an alternative. If either of them fell asleep during a briefing, they would become free game to mess with. It not only gave them more of a motive to stay awake in the long monotonous meetings, but it allowed the other person to have a little fun. So, instead of finishing your reports, the two of you spent the afternoon detailing a long list of rules and limits. And since then, the game had been on.

So, Rick quickly dug through the bag that he brought to the debriefs just for opportunities like this. Pulling out a handful of pens, Rick spent the next five minutes strategically sliding the pens into your hair. When he was finished, he sat back with a wide grin. You looked like his high school art teacher with five or six pens sticking out of your head at random angles. He was just about to take out his phone and slyly try to take a picture when you shifted in your seat, giving him a better view of your face.

Rick felt his heart leap in his chest as he drank in the view before him. You had been his best friend, his partner, his confidant, for years. But more than that, you had been his most well-kept secret. After only a month or two of knowing you, he had fallen hopelessly and helplessly in love. Sure, there had been an immediate physical attraction. You were exactly his type, and while you were beautiful and sexy, it was obvious you were oblivious to this fact which somehow made you even more attractive. But soon, those feelings of lust and desire morphed into something else.

As Rick really got to know you, he saw the amazing person you were beyond the physical. How you were so intelligent but not a know-it-all, how you were funny but never in a cruel way, how you could flip between a hardened soldier and compassionate friend in seconds, and how you would do anything to protect those who you cared about no matter the personal cost to you. You were everything he had ever imagined in a romantic partner and more. However, you were his work partner, his best friend. And as much as he longed for more, there was no way in hell he would ever risk what he had with you by trying to make a move.

So, he resigned himself to stolen glances and his notebooks. As much as his father had influenced and encouraged his militaristic side growing up, his mother had encouraged his artistic side. Pens, notepads, charcoal, paints. These were his birthday and Christmas presents every year. And he embraced it wholeheartedly. His art provided him a release from the horrors he experienced in the military, and even though he never shared it with anyone (except a few violent ones he showed you of the things he would do to Waller if ever given the chance), he still drew every chance he got. And lately, all he could draw was you. He knew it was weird, maybe even borderline creepy, but he couldn’t stop himself. You would look at him a certain way or the light would hit you just so, and he couldn’t help it.

Just like now. Because you had shifted in your chair, you were now facing him more directly. And you looked so peaceful. It was a look he hadn’t seen on your face in a really long time, and he knew he had to capture the moment. So, he grabbed his pencil out of his bag and began to draw.

His eyes kept flickering back and forth from you to the page. He wanted to capture each and every detail with as much precision as possible. The way your lips were parted just ever so slightly, and the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. How your impossibly long eyelashes quivered slightly against your skin in your sleep. And your neck… It was extended to one side, baring its perfect, smooth skin to the world. And as he began to sketch it, his hand began to tremble. What would it feel like to kiss your neck, gently and tenderly? To feel your pulse beating beneath his lips as they trailed across your skin? Would you like him nibbling on your jaw, your ear? And the way your breath would catch just before his mouth crashed against your perfect, full lips. How your hands would gather in his hair while he-

Rick had to press the tip of his pencil painfully against his thigh to snap him back to reality. He had been so close to releasing a loud, needy moan right in the middle of the debrief. Taking a few deep breaths to calm himself, he returned to the sketch. His hand began to fly across the page. Normally, a sketch like this could take an hour or more, but within thirty minutes, he was staring at your perfect likeness on his page (minus the pens in your hair). And he softly smiled down at it.

That smile turned into a full-on grin as moments later, he watched you stir and sit up. You felt the extra weight in your hair immediately and turned to glare at him. Rick stifled a laugh and just shrugged. He knew it was best to avoid your fury immediately, so as soon as Waller finished the meeting moments later, he bolted through the back door of the auditorium.

He hurried back to his office and dumped his bag on the floor next to the desk. He pulled out his notebook and quickly reviewed the notes from today's meeting about the mission they would be leaving on in two days. Same old life and death stuff. But just as he was about to close the notebook, his eyes caught his sketch once again. He trailed his finger down your cheek and closed it with a smile. Then he hurried out of the office and headed to the cafeteria.

Just as he reached the double doors, he was attacked by a handful of pens to the face. He grinned as he turned to face you. “Hey, serves you right. You know the rules. Anyone who falls asleep durin’ a briefing is free game to mess with.”

Your face was fuming with anger, but Rick could tell it was mostly for show. “Yeah, but could you have been more obvious! If I hadn’t been sitting behind Nanaue, Waller would have noticed in seconds!”

Rick shrugged, “I don’t make the rules, I just follow them.”

“No, you and I did make the rules! It’s our game, you jackass.” You punched him in the arm but there was no real force behind it. Rick had felt what one of your real punches felt like and this was in no way that. Thankfully. “However, to make it up to me, can I borrow your notes? I obviously missed everything she said in there.”

Rick’s stomach growled and he glanced back into the cafeteria, not really giving your request a second thought. “Sure, but I already dropped my notebook back in my office. I can get it for you after lunch.”

“Do you mind if I just go get them now? I’m not really hungry and I want to get caught up in case Waller wants to discuss it more later.”

Rick shrugged again as he headed into the cafeteria. Of course, you would want to work through lunch. But he didn’t. And if he didn’t hurry, Economos would take the last burrito. “Whatever works for you. It should just be layin’ on top of my desk.”

Hurrying inside, Rick cursed loudly as he watched Economos grab the last burrito just as expected. The other man shot Rick a smug grin as he moved along to pay. Every week this happens! One of these days the cafeteria would actually make enough of the food people wanted to eat. Reluctantly, Rick grabbed a plate of soggy-looking tacos and an energy drink. Once he paid, he went and sat at a table alone. Normally, he would be eating with you but since you weren’t here, he preferred eating by himself. Not that he had anything against the office team per say, but he knew about the bets that they made every time the squad left for a mission and it kind of ticked him off.

But as he took his first big bite of taco, Harcourt called over to him. “Hey, Flag. Where’s your partner? I need to talk to her.”

“Not ‘ere.” Rick said through a mouthful of food.

Harcourt rolled her eyes. “I can see that. But where is she?”

Rick swallowed then said, “She went to get my notebook from my office. Just go talk to her after lunch.”

Harcourt kept talking about needing a report or some shit, but Rick tuned her out. He was just raising his taco back to his lips when a thought occurred to him that made his blood run cold. He bolted up from the table, spilling the remains of his lunch all over himself, and took off at full speed towards his office. He could hear Harcourt and Economos calling after him but he ignored them.

How could he be so stupid! He had given you permission to look in his notebook. The notebook filled with pages and pages of sketches of you. Oh God! If you saw them, if you realized how he felt…. Rick started running faster.

The second he reached his office door, he burst through it yelling, “No! Wait!”

Rick stood there, chest heaving and eyes wide, as he took in the open notebook in your hands and the shocked expression on your face. He didn’t know where to look. You. The notebook. You. The notebook. Finally, he nervously looked at you. This was never how you were supposed to find out about his feelings for you. Finding a drawing while he stood there, sweaty, out of breath, and covered in soggy tacos. But it seemed like this was how things were going to play out.

Holding up the page with today’s sketch, you asked in a hushed tone, “What is this, Rick?”

“It’s nothing,” he muttered. He hurried over to you and tried taking the book from your grasp, but you dodged out of the way, retreating farther into his office.

Clinging protectively to the notebook, you said, “This isn’t nothing. This is……I’ve never even imagined I could look like this…But-but why did you draw it? Why like that?”

Rick took another few steps towards you, silently begging you to not dig deeper into this. “Just drop it, okay? I was bored and I just wanted to draw something. I saw you asleep and….”

“And what? Rick, why did you draw me looking so…so beautiful?”

The awe and wonder in your voice stabbed at his heart. How could you not see that’s how you looked? How could this accurate representation of you come as such a shock? Why was it so hard for you to see the amazing person you really were? But, Rick couldn’t tell you any of that. Instead, he shrugged and somehow managed to mutter the words, “I just drew what I saw.”

He watched your face waver for a second before a look of realization passed over it. Quickly, you began flipping through the pages of the notebook, scouring every page for more sketches. NO! Rick dove for the book, trying desperately to pry it from your grasp before you got to the end. But he was too late. As he saw you turn to the first page of drawings, his body deflated. It was over. Any hope he had of talking his way out of this was now gone. You would know how he felt and everything would change. He wouldn’t be surprised if you asked for a transfer.

Rick stared intensely at the floor, jaw clenched tightly, willing himself not to show you how much this rejection was going to hurt him. But then, he heard you approaching him. Your shoes slowly appeared in his line of sight as you stood mere centimeters away from him. He looked up cautiously, glancing at your face which was a mix of hesitation and fear. But just as he was about to say something, your expression changed. It was one he had seen a million times. You had steeled yourself against your fear and were about to face it head-on. Suddenly, one of your hands reached up and slid behind his neck and began pulling him into your lips.

Rick didn’t hesitate. The second he realized what you were doing, he surged into your lips. For years, he had wondered what it would be like to kiss you, and this, this, was so much better than he had ever dreamed. While never breaking contact, he circled his arms around your waist and lifted you up. He was stunned when you wrapped your legs around his hips, but he took it as a sign to continue, so he carried you over to his desk. Once you were seated carefully on top, he slid your jacket off you, running his hands down the smooth skin of your shoulders and arms as you were left in only a thin tank top.

Finally releasing the moan that had felt trapped in his chest since this morning’s meeting, Rick trailed his lips down across your jaw and then your throat. You arched into him as his hands settled on your hips and he pulled you in tighter to him, slotting you perfectly between his large thighs.

And just as his first kiss landed on your collar bone, you finally spoke up. Breathlessly, you said, “Rick, there is one thing I need to know.”

He hummed in acknowledgment praying you weren’t about to ask him to stop but preparing himself for that eventuality. But instead, he was shocked to hear you ask, “That picture you drew in the meeting today was so detailed, so beautifully sketched and shaded……How long was I asleep?”

A soft chuckle exploded from Rick’s lips still on your skin, causing you to squirm under the vibrations. Glancing up at your face, Rick teased, “Really, darlin’? That’s what you’re thinkin' about right now? Huh. Seems I’m not doing my job correctly.” He reached up and slid his hands under your tank top until they cupped your breast through your bra, running his thumbs over the thin material. You gasped as your head fell back, causing Rick to grin widely. “Let’s see if I can change that.”

[sherifftillman]

oooh mistletoe and jonathan!!

Pairing: Jonathan Byers x gn!Reader (no pronouns/gendered terms)

Genre: fluff

Word count: 1.9k

A/N: Here we are again! Is this day 2 of ficmas because it's my second fic, or day 3 because it's December 3rd? My brain hurts.

“Ironic, isn’t it?” You ask, trying to break the silence between you and the only other volunteer for the school dance committee. It’s the fourth time you’ve tried to engage with him - not even the teacher assigned to chaperone you had ever introduced either of you by name, much less said more than five words to either one of you. They’d just handed over the list of things to do, nodded silently at the two of you and went back to the faculty lounge. You’re fairly sure that leaving the only two people who actually volunteered to decorate the hall to do it themselves isn’t the right thing, but who are you to question it?

You get a hm? from the boy and decide that’s enough for you to work with, “The theme of the dance being Winter Wonderland. Making everything look like it’s all snowed in. In California.” He gives a small chuckle and a nod of recognition. “I don’t even think I’ve ever seen snow.”

“You’re not missing out.” He speaks!

“Oh? Where are you from, if you don’t mind me asking?” you inquire tentatively, not wanting to push his boundaries but hopeful you’re finally getting a conversation out of him.

“Small town in Indiana,” he answers meekly.

“Ah! I bet it’s so nice to be all tucked up at home while the snow falls thick outside, not having to worry about school for a few days, just getting to go out and enjoy it all with your friends,” you wistfully daydream, but he brings you back with another slight laugh.

“Not in small town Indiana,” he explains. “You work in Hawkins, you live in Hawkins. You live in Hawkins, you can get to your school or work eventually, even if it’s just by foot. They’ll pardon any tardiness for the weather, but they’ll still expect you to show up.”

“Well, that’s gross,” you pull a face, and he laughs a little harder. “At least here, we’re still going in because the weather hasn’t changed at all.”

“Yeah, it’s certainly nicer to wake up not living in an ice box!”

“So, I’m so sorry, but I don’t think I ever caught your name when we were assigned together?” you finally ask.

He smirks, “That’s because we were never really told each others’ names. Jonathan. Byers,” he sticks his hand out to you, pulls it back for a second, then makes a gesture of resignation and holds it out again.

You tell him your name as you take his hand with amusement. “You good, there?”

“Yeah, it just… Felt weirdly formal to do that. But then I started so I had to go with it, y’know?” he shrugs awkwardly.

You laugh, “You’re totally fine, dude. C’mon, we’ve got like 12 thousand snowflake streamers to hang from the rafters, because that’s definitely a job for two teenagers to be safely trusted with.”

“I think you may be fudging the numbers a little there,” he raises his eyebrows at you.

You study the boxes that sit at the side of the school hall, rest your hands on your hips and nod. “You’re right. It’s definitely closer to 14 thousand.” He shakes his head at you, but a smile still tugs at the corners of his lips.

Later on, as you’re tying what does actually feel like the ten-thousandth streamer, you call across the hall, “So, Jonathan Byers.”

“You know, just Jonathan’s fine, too,” he shouts from where he’s positioned, climbing down his ladder to move onto the next area to hang decorations on.

“Just going by how you introduced yourself,” you tease. “You don’t exactly seem like the school dance fanatic type.”

“Neither do you,” he points out.

“True,” you shrug. “But I called you out on it, first.”

“Yeah, well,” he mirrors you. “My brother and sister, they’re… They’re being real quiet about how well they’re adjusting to life here. And I don’t really ‘do’ the whole dance thing, but I thought maybe if they knew I was a part of it, it’d help them feel better about going, and they might end up making some friends.”

“That’s really sweet,” you smile at him. “You guys must be real close.”

He nods, “Yeah. Yeah, we are. Been through a whole lot together.”

“They’re lucky to have you,” you blurt out as you’re tying the string of another streamer. You don’t notice how flustered he gets.

Instead, you only hear him ask, “So, your turn now. No more hiding.”

You smile, “Would you believe it, same reason. Got a freshman sister being pushed around by some little bitch of a kid,” you snarl. “Angela. What’s your siblings’ names, I’ll tell my sister to look out for them.”

“Uh, Will and El- Jane! Jane,” he corrects himself hurriedly. “Um, her name is Jane, but we call her El sometimes. Eleven’s a family nickname, one of those ones where it’ll take too long to explain,” he flusters, and you laugh.

“Chill out, dude, it’s okay. My sister and I still talk like we’re old people sometimes because of a game we used to play when we were super little. Families have stuff like that,” you shrug, and he grins.

“Do I get a taste of your acting prowess, gramps?” he teases, and you flip him off, to his amusement.

Once the streamers are up, and lights are strung around the hall, you shake your arms out. “Ugh, if I have to hang one more thing, it’s gonna be my-” You cut yourself off, not wanting to scare Jonathan off with your own dark humour, but he finishes the joke for you in his head, laughing under his breath.

“Hate to break it to you, but there is one more box over there,” he points to it, and you throw your head back and groan as you trudge over.

The pair of you open it together, looking at the mess of dark green you’re met with in confusion. “What is this stuff?” Jonathan asks quietly as you reach in and try and take some of it out.

You end up holding onto something and pulling it out. The branch twirls amongst your fingers as you finally realise, “Oh my god, it’s all mistletoe.”

Jonathan’s cheeks tinge pink, and you quickly drop the sprig yourself. Clearing his throat, he asks, “Pardon my French, but what the fuck do they want us to do with all of this?!”

You put on a silly ‘news reporter’ voice, “This just in, Lenora Hills High faces its biggest mono outbreak in decades! It’s an epidemic out here, folks! Tons of teenage biological terrorists who just couldn’t keep their chapped little lips off of each other!” Jonathan laughs loudly, the sound filling your ears with delight. Your voice returns to normal, “Should we, uh, “forget” to have unpacked this one? Save the whole dance from becoming a raging orgy?”

“Considering our reasons for wanting to make sure it goes well? Absolutely,” Jonathan grimaces, this time making you laugh.

The two of you find a storage closet obscure enough to hide it in that you can make the excuse of forgetting all about it. Once it’s buried far back enough, Jonathan gestures for you to leave the supply closet first and makes sure he carefully locks it afterwards. “Um, so. That’s about it for all of the main stuff. Everything else, I think we’ve got to do on the day,” you explain. “Well. It was nice to meet you, Jonathan Byers!”

“You too,” he nods. He holds his hand out awkwardly, but retracts it before you have the chance to shake it again. Instead he offers you a shy smile before skulking away.

You tell your sister about the Byers kids. She tells you that she’s seen them, but she’s always shied from associating with them in the hopes it makes them all more of a target. You assure her there’s strength in numbers, especially when it comes to the quiet kids.

By the day of the dance, your sister is offering to help you set up. Confused, you bring her along, and you soon see why as Jonathan shows up with two kids around her age, too. The three of them run off excitedly together and it warms your heart to see her actually having friends. “Look at them,” you simper as you meet up with Jonathan.

“Yeah, they’re all pretty great, huh?” he smiles back at you. “Uh, hey, while they’re getting started, I was… Wondering… Would you come with me to my locker? I need to get something from there, first.”

“Sure!” You chirp, following him out. You walk over to his locker in relative silence, only speaking when he’s finally at it. “So, what’s up, did you forget something?”

“More like… Forgot to “forget” one thing… From the other day…” Jonathan mutters as he searches his locker before grasping something with an ah! He turns to face you and you see a branch of mistletoe being clutched tightly in his hand.

Your whole face flushes as your heart forgets how to beat in a steady rhythm for a few moments. As you bite your lip with excitement, he looks down at the mistletoe sprig, tapping it against his palm a few times nervously. “Um, you know…” You pipe up. “I think you’re supposed to hold it up, and then we can get under it.”

Jonathan lets out a nervous laugh, finally looking up at you. He dangles it between the two of you and you pull his face to yours as you kiss him. He places a hand on your shoulder to steady himself, that soon moves to your neck, cradling your jaw and stroking it gently with his thumb. The pair of you keep kissing until Jonathan’s arm gets tired, but then you simply take his hands and rest them around your hips, sliding yours around his neck to resume kissing him. He’s still shy with it, but there’s an eagerness behind his kisses that you’re dying to get out of him.

He breaks it off to laugh breathily, “S’pose the kids’ll be pretty pissed if they’ve gotta do everything themselves, huh.”

You shrug, “Their three pairs of arms outweighs the two we’ve got, and we managed fine.”

“You’re insatiable,” he smiles affectionately, but you do swivel round to start walking back.

“So. Jonathan Byers.”

He sighs jokingly, “You know, that’s gonna be a mouthful every time you say it.”

“I know, but I have to commit to it now,” you reply back in the same tone. “So. What exactly are your plans for tonight?”

“Drop the kids off, maybe sit in with my buddy Argyle while he’s working, ’til it’s time to pick the kids back up again.” He looks over to you as you fall into step with each other. “Why ask?”

You look at him in disbelief, chin pointing down and eyes tilted up at him, eyebrows raised. He still looks lost, so you shrug, lilting, “Okay, fine, I suppose if there’s nobody else you’d rather be doing something else with…”

He chuckles, “Well, if you’ll have me… I guess we could carpool all the kids and just take the one car?” 

You’re glad your sister’s going to have a good time with her new friends at the winter ball, and that she won’t have to put up with the constant ridicule you’d get at always missing out on school social events.

But for you, laying across the back seat of a cute boy's car and making out with him is a far better use of your time.

[poisonsage808]

ModernAU!Sandor Clegane x Reader (II)

Warnings: hints of violence/illegal business, language, mentions of anxiety, tried to keep reader gender neutral and loosely described but with longish hair & over 21

A/N: HAPPY DECEMBER! i’m having too much fun with this, if you’re reading and want to see something specific/ crave an interaction with our beloved sandor, lemme know! enjoy :3c

•Sandor Clegane works for Tyrion Lannister, the richest bachelor and previous owner of the finest strip club in King’s Landing. Mysteriously, the club was burned down a week or so after a meeting with the fat cat himself, his father, Tywin Lannister

•A coincidence, the cops told him with smug smiles and heavy pockets. However Tyrion was more than fine with the outcome, two times richer with the insurance money and he used it to start a popular chain of high end restaurants, well known throughout the many cities of Westeros

•There hasn’t been anymore mysterious fires since

•Sandor used to work for Tywin— or rather his daughter as a chauffeur/ security for her and her children but he quit when they hired his brother

•Where Gregor was, trouble never failed to follow. The fuckers been in and out of jail/ arrested more times than Sandor has fingers and toes count, the Lannisters always cover for his ass. He wanted no part of that.

•Tyrion wasn’t his first choice of a boss but the minute Sandor resigned from his sister’s employment, Bronn was handing him the youngest Lannister’s card. “Fortunately for both of us, the fewer options make for the easiest decisions.” Tyrion told him.

•The dwarfs associates, Bronn and Podrick, were practically intolerable (Sandor had a list of reasons for them both) but the paycheck made up for it

•On easier days all Sandor had to do was sit in meetings or in the same general area as Tyrion and make sure no surprises came the dwarfs way

•Regular days consisted of making schedules for security guards, occasionally checking and scaring any on duty that he caught slacking

•Hard days were rare but involved getting calls in the middle of the night, alerting him of suspicious activity

•Only once did Sandor receive said call with a description of his brother lurking around the office building Tyrion worked from. When he arrived, he searched the surrounding blocks then the building top to bottom but there was nothing out of the ordinary. No threats. No Mad Dog prowling in the shadows. No rest for Sandor Clegane the next few nights after that.

•Today wasn’t like any of those days but Sandor’s yet to decide if that was a good thing or not

•Sandor didn’t go to the gym at the crack of dawn but he still got to see you later in the morning, this time with the smaller stuttering lad, Podrick, by his side

•Their boss had a large drink order and sent Sandor to help the assistant carry a tray back to the office. He would’ve complained if it wasn’t for the obvious; he wanted to see you

•The poor man was already tormented by the thought of you but ever since that day you asked for his number, the two of you go back and forth between deciding hangout dates (your word, not his)

•You told Sandor you only worked at the cafe in the mornings because afterwards you interned for a graphic design company, which is what you went to school for. Poison Apple Ink, a brand he hadn't heard of until he met you, would offer you a real job after the internship was completed in some odd months.

•This required a good amount of your spare time and a lot of effort for little to no pay but you claimed you were happy to do it

•Sometimes Sandor received pictures of you at a social event late at night or early afternoons if you thought it would interest him

•His favorite is of you standing in front of a brick wall of a high school. An oversized, previously white shirt was splattered with paint of all colors. Some on your face and in your hair. Your eyes were tired, apparently the company had you and a handful of others (also in the picture) work overnight to complete the mural behind you that could tell the story of the Odyssey through pictures. But you had the biggest, proudest smile on your face

•Even you’re not hanging out, you blow up his phone with stupid questions or random thoughts and you use an absurd amount of emojis! All of which make the corner of his lip twitch into a tiny smile

•(His coworkers are suspicious when they see that)

•What’s his favorite food? What’s on his bucket list? What’s his favorite movie?

•You don’t get to ask these questions when you’re with him, you claim to forget because the two of you get wrapped into different conversations. Sometimes you carry them and Sandor’s happy to listen but when the tables are turned, you have a dopey smile on your face and hold your chin with one hand silently

-

“Sandor!” You leaned over the counter like he couldn’t already see, didn’t already have his eyes on you, and waved your hand high above your head. Genna even chimed in with a wave of her own. It was busy in the cafe, chatter all around but no one was in line so the two men moved from the door to the counter. You rolled back onto the flat of your feet and placed your hands on the screen in front of you but before either could order, Genna’s arm snaked over your shoulder and held a cup out to Sandor.

“You-You come here that often?” Podrick asked hesitantly, merely attempting to make conversation with him as he usually did.

Sandor took the disposable cup with thanks, then pointed at you with his chin, “This one would hunt me down if I went anywhere else.”

“I’m glad you know that because I just found the perfect spot to hide your body.” You smile more genuinely at Sandor’s friend, “Anything for you?”

They made the order, eight coffees total but you only charged for seven. Cogs were turning in Pod’s mind now, his eyes dropped to your name tag then your face again. You were talking to Sandor while making their drinks, asking him his opinion on the chalk drawing you did on the board. “That chicken scratch was you? Thought a child snuck in and drew on the wall.” you glared fiercely at Sandor’s response, actually threatened him a second time.

You didn’t actually look upset though and when you push the tray of drinks into his awaiting hands, he tells you the drawing looks good. By the end of the interaction Sandor’s smile was less prominent than yours and there was a vibrant blush on your cheeks when he chuckled.

“Your friend seems nice.” Pod says as they leave the cafe.

“They’re alright.”

Not an outright denial, he pries a little more, “That drawing was great, they could be a tattoo artist. They seemed happy you liked it.. maybe you—“

Sandor can’t help the intimidating expression that takes over when he looks at the boy, “Y’got a question?”

“N-No, sir, just making conversation.”

“Not a tattoo artist, they do graphic design.” He ends up saying while turning his attention away from the boy.

“Like graffiti? O-Or shirts and stickers?”

“Both. Interning for Rotten Apple or somethin’.”

“Oh, Poison Apple Ink, the clothing brand!” Pod smiles and nods to himself mostly, “Got a couple shirts from them in high school.”

Dropping the coffees off was Podrick’s job but since Sandor also had a tray in his hand, he got looped into sitting in on the personal meeting. Tyrion waved them both in while chatting with his brother, Jaime Lannister. Sandor didn’t personally like him but ever since the golden child was disinherited after he joined the police force, he was almost a human being. Trustworthy at arm's length at the very least, he ceased contact with his father and sister sometime after Tyrion did.

Next to the oldest Lannister was a very tall and very blonde woman that Pod sat next to. The two exchanged pleasantries while Sandor begrudgingly sat next to the second manager of security, Bronn, who shot him a smug smirk while taking a coffee. The amount of drinks didn’t add up to the amount of people in the room but Tyrion didn’t comment on it so neither did Sandor. The little shit had more than enough coin to spare.

“Good, now that you’re both back I’d like you to sign this.”

The paper and pen were first slid over to Podrick, the boy signed it without hesitation.

“What is it?” Sandor quirked a brow.

“Told you he would ask” Bronn quipped with a chuckle at their boss’ expense.

“A sign up sheet for the holiday p-“

“No.”

“I’m not asking for your soul, Clegane, it’s a social gathering for work!” Tyrion waves his arms exasperatedly, “I provide the place, festivities, luxuries and all you have to do is show up.”

“Am I gettin’ paid to show up?” Sandor raises his brow and smiles mockingly.

“In good times and merriment, yes.”

“Free booze,” Bronn drags the paper in front of the giant man, “I’m goin’.”

Sandor’s frown returns, “This says softball sign up.”

“Yes, that would be the festivities.” Tyrion gestures to Jaime, “My brother has kindly rented an indoor practice court. He will lead my company to victory while his companion Brienne will guide the opposing team to defeat.”

The oldest Lannister laughs at that while the giant woman, now Brienne, only smirks knowingly.

“You can be on my team, Clegane,” Jaime flashes that same irking smile Sandor can’t stand.

“How d’ya plan on drinkin’ while swingin’ a bat?” He mumbles to Bronn with a raised brow.

“At the same time, my aims better when ‘m drunk.”

•The meeting concludes and the sign up list is returned without Sandor’s name.

•However the next morning it’s on his desk, with Tyrion sitting on the other side of it. How long had the man been waiting for him to arrive?

“I had a brilliant idea after you left yesterday, Clegane,”

“That so?” Sandor hangs his jacket up.

Tyrion purses his lips and takes a moment to wait for the taller man’s attention to focus on him again, “Or rather Pod did. He tells me you may know someone that can make shirts for the softball game.”

“Yer assistant needs new ears. They can’t make ya shirts, they’re still an intern so can’t take on clients.”

“You worked for my sister, you shouldn’t be surprised at what opportunities money can bring people.. or take away, for that matter.” He didn’t mean to slip in the bitterness that has a habit of following after mentions of that side of the family. His father and his sister, even his oldest nephew, the disdain for them is all too clear.

The shorter man sighs and squared his shoulders again, sincerity returning to his tone, “At least have them ask and mention me by name, see if that doesn’t strike their employer’s interest. If it does, hand the job to Podrick and he’ll deal with the finalities.”

Sandor involuntarily tenses, “Could do it myself.”

“Don’t trouble yourself, Clegane, you shouldn’t take on extra work you won’t get paid for. Especially since you have no interest in coming to the party.” Tyrion knowingly smirks and slides off the chair, rounding the desk to hold up a pen.

The giant of a man mumbles something undoubtedly rude while he takes the pen. His boss leaves the room with Sandor’s name on the sign up sheet.

-

Daniel, your potential boss, gave you sole responsibility on this project for Mr Lannister as a test of sorts. He’s very confident you can handle this, Genna came in on her day off so you could come to this meeting and Sandor’s inside waiting for you. You have a binder full of anything you could possibly need and your phone’s still vibrating with every text of encouragement from family and friends. Everything is working out so far, isn’t that supposed to be a sign of a good start? You look and feel out of place being here. Everyone around you is wearing pressed shirts, expensive suits, dresses or skirts. Fancy, they all look so fucking fancy— why didn’t you think to dress like them!? You should text Sandor you’re running late so you can run home and change.

When Daniel takes you to meetings with clients he always wears the same thing, a shirt with his design on it, jeans and a snapback with the company’s logo. You interact with people like this on your own daily at the cafe. They’re busy and not always kind but you’re rather good at interacting with them and de-escalating situations where they’re frustrated. None of them were Tyrion fucking Lannister though were they!? You thought wearing a baseball tee with an example of your work was a great idea last night, now you’re fastening the buttons of your jacket to hide it as you walk into the lobby.

Sandor’s easy enough to spot once you get inside, your eyes lock with his instantly. At least he’s not wearing a suit, you might have a heart attack if he was, but he still looks ridiculously good. Casual, like on your hangout dates, even though he stands out among the sea of faces strutting about he looks like he works here. His blazer and slacks are navy blue and hug his form in an illegally attractive way— OK THAT'S ENOUGH! Don’t you dare drool over him right now, you have to be professional!

You realize you’ve made Sandor do the majority of the work in meeting you, he’s walked across the floor to stand some feet in front of you now.

“Y’look nervous.” He comments with a frown.

Your eyes are distracted for a moment, glued behind him and jumping from one perfect looking person to the next. When your gaze catches his again you manage a meek reply and a shrug, “A bit.”

Very nervous, he thinks to himself. You’re a chatterbox even when you’re not anxious so silence couldn’t be a good sign.

“We got some time. Wanna look around?”

You momentarily snap out of your trance to smile at him, “Are you going to be my tour guide?”

“Might be.”

Your heart flutters when Sandor holds his left arm out like the gentleman he looks like. You shuffle the binder in your grip to slip your hand into the crook of his elbow. Sandor walks at your pace, makes comments now and then while gesturing with his spare hand to a room. Only once were the two of you stopped. A man with slicked back hair, piercing blue eyes, a charming smile and a similar outfit to Sandor's. You don’t miss the way Sandor covers your hand with his as the man approaches, leaving you to smile as a greeting instead of a handshake.

“That lazy cunt’s Bronn Blackwater.” He mumbles right in front of Bronn who only laughs the comment off. His palm rests over your knuckles until his coworker is long gone but the butterflies in your stomach linger even after. Physically you might be strolling around this fancy building with fancy people but mentally, you were on cloud nine. With your nerves dissolving you find the energy to focus on your attractive tour guide.

“I thought you said you were security.”

“I am.”

“What are you securing if you’re here with me right now? Are you cutting out, Mr Clegane?” You tease.

Sandor doesn’t miss a beat with that smirk of his. You’ve always been playful but recently the line of that has been blurred and at some point you’ve gotten more coquettish. He denies you’re actually flirting with him but he can play this game too.

“Not cuttin’ out. Got precious cargo for the boss.”

Crap, crap, crap your blush is bad!

“What’s Bronn do?” You ask, suddenly avoiding his eyes.

“Security.”

“Why’s your boss need two security guards?”

•Sandor doesn’t like how genuine that question is. Don’t you know what the name Lannister means in this city? They’re not just famous, they’re feared

•The wrong things seem to scare you, the giant man thinks with bitter amusement and it slips into his tone

“Ya saw that twig. He doesn’t look as scary as me, does he?” He scoffs.

You hum and hesitantly look up at Sandor, “I still think I could take you.”

When you don’t make any attempts to correct yourself, Sandor chuckles darkly and quirks a brow at you. Playful, flirty threats were part of your banter with the man. But that might be the first time you’ve genuinely challenged him so boldly.

“That so?”

“Yup.” You pop the ‘p’ loudly with a smirk of your own.

If he thought you were cute when you’re nervous, what’s this he feels when you’re being brave?

“Let’s not find out today. No assasination attempts on my boss, alright?”

Your smug attitude cracks at the reminder. You’re not here to hangout with Sandor, you’re here as a representative for a potential job. The tour has officially come to an end right in front of closed doors, a metal plaque that says ‘Main Conference Room’ hanging on one side. The walls of the room are made of windows that touch the ceiling and floor but the blinds on the opposite side are closed.

“Is he, um, nice? Mr Lannister?”

Your friend shrugs a bit and with the motion, unfolds his arm and slides his hand into the pocket of his pants.

“‘Bout as nice as a Lannister can be, I guess.” Sandor’s spare grip rests on the handle of the door but he looks at you patiently, “Ready?”

Clutching the binder to your chest with both hands, you let out a determined huff of air and force a smile.

“Yeah, I’m ready.”

-

Tyrion Lannister is the only one you don’t recognize in the room. Bronn and Podrick sit on either side of him while Sandor stands behind with his arms crossed. No wonder he’s security, you think as you hold out your hand to his boss.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr Lannister. I’m (Y/N), thank you for your interest in Poison Apple Ink.”

“Call me Tyrion. Sit please!” His smile is also quite charming.

You pull out a chair and immediately open the binder as you sit. A quick shuffle through the papers and you pull out the examples your mentor gave you, “So Daniel wanted me to show you some designs he made in case you needed an idea for-for the shirts.”

Tyrion taps his chin as he looks over the papers you passed to him. When his expression is unreadable, your eyes dart to Sandor but he only shrugs. Bronn snatches the stack of papers from his boss’ grip when it’s held out to him. His eyebrows jump up and down while he nods or shakes his head. He mumbles something about ‘lions’ that’s definitely not a compliment.

“These are.. great, truly works of art, but I have no interest in lions. Podrick here tells me your work is fantastic, I’d like to see it for myself.”

You tug a smaller stack of designs from the binder and surrender them to Tyrion once again. You don’t have time to guess what he thinks, he begins asking you questions. Sandor tries not to look too amused now that the tables are turned on you, it’s you being forced to give answer after answer. You’re much less nervous than before. Only once you began to ramble and your eyes strayed towards him. Sandor’s chest tightened when that happened.

The meeting lasts about 40 minutes and ends successfully for both you and Tyrion. You wait in the now empty conference room for his assistant, Podrick, to return with a copy of the order. The first text you responded to was Daniel, letting him know the important details of what was discussed. Everyone else that wished you luck got an assortment of celebratory emojis. You start to lose that burst of confidence as your thumb hovers over the text threat with Sandor. It’s silly, you can’t miss him when he was just here- not when he’s still in the same building!

Y: y’know i was thinking

Sandor 🐺🐺🐺: Don’t hurt yourself.

•You laugh to yourself but ignore that comment.

Y: it’s not really fair i work two jobs for you now

Y: i think you owe me

Sandor 🐺🐺🐺: Who got you this second job again?

Y: some security guard that sucks at his job

Y: and i’m about to lose a lot of free time that i could be spending with him!

•Maybe you should’ve just thanked Sandor instead of being cheeky. He knows you're joking right? The bubbles go back and forth for much too long and every second takes away what confidence remains with you.

Sandor 🐺🐺🐺: What do you want?

•A selfish amount of his time. His company. His attention. All wrapped up with the title of a proper date.

•But you don’t have the nerve to ask for that yet, it probably wouldn’t be appropriate with the project you’re taking on anyways. You could be satisfied with being friends, right?

Y: make me something! i make you coffee, now i’m making you shirts

Y: fair compensation i’d say

Sandor 🐺🐺🐺: Make you something... Like what?

Y: 🤷 🤔

Y: what do you know how to do?

Sandor 🐺🐺🐺: Cook.

Y: AND YOU NEVER TOLD ME!?!?

Sandor 🐺🐺🐺: I get 500 questions every damn day from you. Not my fault you never thought to ask.

Y: valid. i want you to cook me dinner then! it can be like our last supper before i drown in all the shirts i have to make!!

Y: you know that i’m mostly joking right? you totally don’t have to

Sandor 🐺🐺🐺: I don’t have to do anything. Just tell me when… And no “drowning” after. Knowing you, you’ll somehow pin your death on me.

Y: i would never! 🤔🪚

Y: would thursday be ok? i’ll bring drinks! 🍻🥂

Sandor 🐺🐺🐺: Thursday. It’s a date.

♡[I], [II], [III]

[know-the-way]

Phrack 7!

A kiss … to shut them up.

I had a little too much fun with this. Hope you enjoy it. 😇

“You know, Jack… they call it a ‘lunch break’ for a reason,” she said sat atop his desk and looking down at a heavily-occupied detective inspector, “It means that you break from work and eat some lunch.”

He didn’t answer at first, too consumed in the piles upon piles of paperwork in front of him. Internal Affairs had requested an audit of City South’s closed case files and both Jack and his entire constabulary had been tasked by the City Commissioner with ensuring all records were within compliance. Considering that City South had a near-pristine solve rate as of late - likely the reason for the audit - it meant several consecutive days of 10 hour shifts for the lot of them.

As such, he regularly came home exhausted and overwrought, his mind refusing to cease running through the checklist once he was off the clock (name of suspect, crime committed, evidence, witness list, statements, court date… ). He slept fretfully, mumbling and sometimes even fitting, and she spent most nights having to soothe him back into slumber. It was really rather beginning to worry her.

“Tomorrow, I’ll actually take my lunch break,” he promised her after a tense conversation over supper.

“I don’t trust for a moment that you will,” she’d countered and it earned her a resigned, tired chuckle.

“If it pleases you, then I give you full permission to come and badger me until I do as you say.”

She’d smiled wickedly. “It does.”

Now, 20 minutes past the start of his break, she decided it was time for a different approach.

“Jack,” she repeated and this time, he let out an absent-minded ‘hm?’ “You know, if you really don’t care to join me for lunch, I can always call on an old friend instead?”

“Mmhm,” he answered plainly, and she took a deep breath as she realized he was too far gone which meant it was time for the heavy artillery.

“Yes, like Carlos - he taught me that lovely fan dance you admired? As well as a few thoroughly satisfying stretches,” her voice had gone up an octave now, making sure she laid it on as thick as humanly possible, “Or David - you remember David - that charming rodeo rider who knew how to ride much more than a horse… “

Some of the words had begun to register in Jack’s brain and he slowly set down the document he was scanning as she continued.

“Then there’s Antonio, the chef of that Sicilian restaurant in Richmond - my goodness, did he love to eat,” she was enjoying herself now, smiling up at the ceiling and lightly kicking her feet.

Meanwhile, Jack had finally looked up and was watching her with crossed hands and a knitted brow.

“Oliver, the contortionist… James, the sea captain… “

“Miss Fisher,” Jack said in a low voice, but she pretended not to hear him.

“Thomas, William, Alexander, Theo… “

“Alright Phryne, you’ve made your point,” he sighed, clearly having caught on. No such luck in her making it easy for him now, though.

“Then there’s always Flight Commander Compton,” Jack was standing up now and she was inwardly congratulating herself while outwardly continuing to stare dreamily up at the ceiling, “He’s just returned from Darwin and I’m sure he’d appreciate a warm welcome h-… mmph”

Her words were muffled against his lips as he tugged her head forward and kissed her silent. One of his hands came to rest on her waist and he pulled her in closer as he deepened the kiss, only breaking away when the need for air became too great.

Her eyes remained closed for several seconds as a wide grin spread across her face. “Are you quite ready for lunch now, inspector?”

“That was a dirty trick,” he whispered, thumb her stroking her cheek, “But yes.”

She opened her eyes then to see him staring down at her in equal parts fondness and exasperation - an expression reserved only for her. “Good,” she said, kissing him quickly once more, then hopping off his desk. “Because we have reservations we’ll just make if we leave now.”

She grabbed her purse and then his hand and walked them out into the lobby, “The inspector’s gone to lunch, lads! Hold down the fort!”

A soft chorus of “yes, Miss” broke out and Jack looked around dazed and puzzled at his men as she practically dragged him out the door. Once they were outside, he let himself be lead, looking down at their joined hands; helpless, grateful, and very much in love. “Not a Sicilian restaurant, right?”

[inkwolvesandcoffee]

Books, Love & Oatmeal (Forrest Bondurant x Reader)

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Modern AU, Bookshop AU, Werewolf AU

Pairing: Werewolf bookshop keeper!Forrest x Fem Human!Reader

Word count: 2.8K

Warnings: Tooth-rotting fluff, an overly worried Forrest, a sprinkle of self-loathing

Summary: Stomach flu season is a yearly occurrence. However, Wolves are less susceptible to disease in general and therefore generally have a smaller pocket of knowledge on how it affects other species. So when you fall ill with the bug, Forrest experiences first hand the stress of having to take care of his human mate.

Although, perhaps he takes things a little too far.

Author’s Note: This piece is from Forrest’s POV.

Tag list: @potter-solomons @hecatemoon87 @buttercup32sstuff @alikaheroes @ilovemanypeople @woofgocows @liliac-dreamer @zablife @elijahssuit @dreamlandcreations​ @vir-tual​

TH Masterlist

I hate seeing her like this.

Usually she is full of life, ready to chastise me for coming home with muddy boots after a hike. For wandering off when we’re on the road. Or for killing prey which we could cook up for dinner. Fortunately, that’s only on the days Y/N takes care of it.

I don’t have the heart yet to enlighten her about my secret recipes. And I think that’s the last thing she wants to hear right now.

The sour smell has worsened since the morning. I first caught a whiff of it when she sprang up out of bed, rushed into the bathroom, and let it all out. Pale-faced, she returned, an unsteady hand on the door knob.

Jack and Howard would never let up if they heard me, but I couldn’t help but whimper at her state. It turned into a soft whine when I got to my feet and picked her up, an involuntary shiver further chilling her cold skin. I tucked her in after pulling an extra blanket from the closet to wrap her up in.

“Forrest, I need to get to work,’’ she said, trying to get up. She started to struggle when I tried to gently push her back onto the pillows. ‘‘I’m expected at the office.”

I’m not always in control and often exercise more strength than necessary. However, and the mere thought makes me uneasy still, I consciously made use of the Wolf to keep her in place. It’s my responsibility that she's in good health and it’s only natural to take a sick day when you’re ill. If I hadn’t done that, she’d gone out and the sickness would’ve worsened. I did the right thing. 

Don’t mean I don’t hate myself for it. 

“No, you’re staying home. Where’s your phone? I’ll call your boss and tell them you’re not coming.”

A small gasp fell from her lips, eyes wide in surprise at the use of force. Yet, Y/N continued to protest, fiercer than before. “I can work from-’’

“No working from home either. If they don’t like it, I’ll send for Jack. He’ll know how to butter them up just right.”

“I’m okay.”

“Sure as hell didn’t sound like it.” I nodded at the door, indicating the bathroom across the hallway. “You sounded even worse than Howard after he’s been on the whiskey. You’re staying home to get some rest.”

“But-’’

“And that’s final.”

She should have struck me then or at least gotten angry with me for breaking the promise I made her after it happened the first time. Perhaps it was exasperation combined with the recklessness of the Wolf, which knows it’s an effective way to end any argument. Perhaps it was even a conscious act, the line blurred between the beast and me again in a way that makes it hard to distinguish between who acted.

I growled at her.

Another reason I hate myself at times.

In an attempt to make amends, I patted her head and let out an apologetic whine. I don’t blame her for swatting my paw, no, my hand and pushing me away when I tried to nuzzle her. 

Resigned, I grabbed her phone off her bedside table and left the room. In the quiet hallway, I waited, nauseous with the sharp sting of fear in her scent and the anticipation of the first sobs on the other side of the door. Tough as she may be, any confrontation with potential direct violence nevertheless leaves its mark on her.

After a few moments of nothing, I called her boss to let them know she would take a sick day.

She had her back turned to me when I returned. Afraid of making matters worse, tail tucked between my legs, ears flat against my head, and head bowed I remained by the door. Although, in hindsight, I only did the latter. 

I think.

I’m not sure. 

Tends to happen a lot these days.

“Try to eat something. And drink enough water.”

“Not hungry.”

“Sweetheart, you need to eat.”

“I’ll just puke it out again.”

I sighed and padded around to her side of the bed. The mattress dipped when I sat down, a hand on her cheek. The fact she allowed me to touch her meant she had forgiven me. 

Again. 

More than she should. 

“Guess the shop won’t open today.”

“What? No, Forrest, you can go to work. I’ll be fine. After all, I’m more than capable of looking after myself.” She placed her hand over mine, giving it a squeeze meant to be encouraging yet was so light and meek it only empowered my hunch she wouldn’t be. “Really, it’s okay. Go open your shop. You need the income.”

“Promise me you’ll eat. Even if it’s just some yogurt.” She made a face, evidently not liking being told what to do. However, when it comes to her health, it’s one of the few fields I want to be her authority in.

She’s my mate, so it’s my duty to look after her.

Her skin was cool against my lips when I kissed her forehead. “First, rest. I’ll be right downstairs, so shoot me a message if you need anything.”

Jack can’t live without the thing, always talking to someone, but I hate having a phone. What point is there in being available to everyone all the time? Apparently, no one can stand on their own legs anymore. However, for Y/N, I make an exception.

I want her to reach me.

For us to connect.

Fortunately, today seems to be another quiet day. I have an inkling people are intimidated by me and it affects the customer flow, but right now that’s the least of my concerns. Neither are the boxes with fresh stock that were left on the pavement. Besides, I don’t think anyone would appreciate the sole employee only being able to look at his phone.

Has she eaten? She said she’d try. Does she need anything else? I should’ve made soup before I left. Maybe made a nest. Why hasn’t she sent a message?

My stomach does a somersault as a bleak thought surfaces.

What if something happened and she can’t? Oh God, don’t let it be so.

I put the book in my hands on my lap to reach for my phone once again. It seems neither the scenery nor a good story will bring peace of mind today. The customers can wait, business can wait. I’ll even close the shop if I have to.

The screen lights up with the selfie we took on our last hike. I don’t like having my photo taken, but Y/N insisted we should at least have one together to add to the already small collection. I suppose she’s right. She deserves something to remember me by. 

Still nothing.

I can feel the fangs protruding from my gums as irritation takes over. Though she’s a capable human girl, I hate it when she does this. Trying to act like she’s fine when she needs help. Insisting to take care of herself while she’s sick.

I should be upstairs making sure she’s fed. Run her a bath, change the bedding while she soaks the sickness out, dress her in a fresh pair of pyjamas, and tuck her in. Safe and warm.

“What’re you looking so glum for today, Forrest?” Mrs Talbot, one of my few regulars, puts the book she’s selected on the counter. Slender fingers entwined, she lets her hands rest on it. Seems like she won’t let me ring her up before she’s got an answer.

Bless her.

I clear my throat and slightly let my head hang in apology for my bad mannerisms. “It’s my ma- girlfriend, ma’am. She… she isn’t well.”

“Oh deary, what’s the poor thing come down with?”

“I don’t know, but she can’t stomach food or drink. I told her to at least try to eat something, but I don’t think she will.” I clench and release my fists. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Don’t worry, my son, it’s stomach flu season. Besides, she isn’t a Wolf, so it’s not surprising she’s caught the damned bug.”

“You- You know what I am?” I blink a few times, trying to register her words. Judging by the air of calm seriousness around her, I heard her correctly.

“I’ve seen you and your brothers skulking around my orchard, yes.” A warm though knowing smile spreads on Mrs Talbot’s thin lips, blue eyes alight with mischief. “My Reggie was one too. Besides, and this was a long time ago, mind you, I used to be a doctor for people like you.”

Why is it that old women have the most astounding secrets, the most vivid lives?

“She’ll be alright, dear. Make her a cup of tea and let her rest. Oh, and warmth. That’s important too.” She gives me a cheeky wink. “I can attest to that from first-hand experience.”

Well, Wolves have a higher body temperature so I suppose I’m warm enough. Gives me a chance to practise cuddling.

“Thank you, ma’am, for the advice.” I bite down the cheerful yap aching to come out. “It’s easier to care for my brothers than her. Humans are frailer, needing more to survive.”

“Fortunately, it sounds like the lucky girl has a Wolf watching over her. How much do I owe you?”

Out of gratitude and the small piece of solace she’s given me, I tell Mrs Talbot the novel is on the house. After all, it’s the least I can do to repay the various kindnesses she’s shown me since I arrived here and opened the shop. Albeit a bit reluctantly, she eventually agrees and leaves.

The rest of the day is quiet. Overall, I think most time was spent reading by the window or pacing around the shop to clear my head. Fortunately, there is no one to be insulted by my frequent use of my phone. Also, I don’t mind the occasional truly slow day, but with Y/N sick in bed it’s close to maddening.

As soon as six o’clock rolls around, I close up the shop and rush up the stairs on the side of the building. I burst through the front door and head to the bedroom.

She’s where I left her, a half-full jug of water and a vegetable sandwich with a small bite taken out of it on the bedside table. “I’m home.”

Her eyes wander from the screen of her e-reader, a faint smile on her lips. “So I heard.”

I crouch down at her side and cup her cheek. Her skin is still colder than it should be. The nauseating sour note underlining her scent hasn’t decreased. “Got through the day alright?”

“Yeah, read a lot mostly.” She nods at the television on the dresser. “Watched a movie too.”

“Good,” I say before I get up and walk to the kitchen to make her some oatmeal, taking the sandwich with me. It’s done the trick with Jack and Howard when they couldn’t hold anything down so it should work for her too. Ma’s recipe works wonders.

You shouldn’t try solid food like this. Too many fibres and gluten. Will only agitate your stomach.

A few minutes later, I return to the bedroom. Y/N scrunches her nose when she notices the contents of the bowl in my hand.

“Oatmeal’s good for you.”

“Don’t like it.”

“It’ll provide some of the nutrients you need and you haven’t eaten all day.”

“Could barely keep the water down.”

“But water ain’t food. Please.” I put the bowl on the bedside table, kick off my shoes, sit down on the edge of the bed, and rest my forehead against hers. Though I hate to do it, I manipulate my scent in hopes of convincing her. Being a Wolf is a blessing and a curse. “One bite. The rest don’t matter, but try at least that one bite.”

Y/N uses my fingers to warm hers, devoid of their usual warmth, up. “Go make dinner for yourself. I can do one day without food.”

I huff and shake my head. “Not hungry. Besides, I ain’t eating if you aren’t.”

The mere thought of having to sit alone at the dinner table makes my stomach roil. To have to face the emptiness of the kitchen when she isn’t there to watch me cook or vice versa. To not cook together because one of us has found a new recipe online or wants to try something new. To be alone in the silence, which won’t be broken by the occasional excited clap or one of those pleased little outcries she does when something tastes good.

She scoffs, her eyes closed as she raises my palm to her cheek to bask in its warmth. “So it’s okay for you not to eat, but not for me?”

“You’re sick, Y/N. It’s important to eat when you’re sick.”

“I’m fine, Forrest.”

“Then why is your hand cold, hm? Why does the stink of disease underline your scent?” I swallow the snarl bubbling in my throat, which transforms into a powerless whine. Gently, I brush my thumb over her skin. “Please, honey. Just one bite, that’s all I ask.”

She lets out a deep sigh of resignation. “Fine. But if I throw up again, it’s on you.”

“You won’t,” I shake my head, retract my hand to grab the bowl, and hold up a spoonful for her. “The family recipe don’t work that way. It heals, nourishes. Ma always made it for my brothers and I when we were pups. Basically raised us on the stuff.”

“Let’s hope it does the same for me.”

Gaze fixed on the oatmeal, she takes a few deep breaths to steel herself. Then she leans in to let me feed her. She swallows the food fast, nose scrunched. Nonetheless, the second after, after her eyebrows shoot up in wonder. “Wow, that… that’s pretty good.”

“Want another bite?” I try to restrain the delight causing a pleasant buzz in my limbs. After all, I don’t think she’d appreciate me pouncing on and licking her.

She nods carefully, considering her stomach.

One bite follows another and soon the bowl is empty. I pluck a tissue from the box beside the jug and clean her mouth, purring. “Attagirl. There.”

Y/N slumps beneath the sheets, rolled on her side in the fetus position. Curled up like a pup. “That was nice. Really tasty.”

“That’s good to hear. Let’s make it an early night. You need to rest.”

“I’m plenty rested. Been in bed all day.”

“Until ten o’clock. Afterwards, it’s lights out.”

She pouts, evidently disagreeing with me. However, the murmured ‘‘fine’’ is affectionate, glad to be looked after.

After cleaning up and changing into something more comfortable, I settle into the sheets next to her. Acting on Mrs Talbot’s advice, I scoot closer to put my chest against her back. A hand on her stomach, I entwine my legs with hers. This cuddling sure is an effective way to keep her in place.

There. Warmth. This is how you do it, right?

Then again, it looks like only one form of it. In the movies and series we saw, it happened in various ways. In bed, on the couch, on a bench in a park. Sometimes the male human would drape his arm over the female human’s shoulders to pull her close, but that’s not possible in our current position. She also can’t sit on my lap. I guess the most important thing is for our bodies to be close, touching.

No, this is right.

“Um, Forrest, what are you doing?” Y/N glances over her shoulder, an eyebrow cocked.

“They do this in the movies, when a man likes a woman.’’ I lean back a bit to try and discover where the fault in it all lies. ‘‘Don’t like it? Or am I doing it wrong?”

She merely laughs, a lovely sound which melts the tenseness in my muscles. “You watch too many movies. They give a false image of what romance is.” 

She tries to flip around, but the hold I have on her prevents it. The look of surprise when she notices she can’t move her legs turns into amused resignation. She falls back into the pillow. “Forrest, can I get my legs back?”

“Do you need them?”

“Well, yeah. How else am I gonna get out of bed?”

“You won’t. You stay here, shut your pretty eyes after we watch a movie or a series, whatever you want, and sleep. No getting up.”

“How about you? If you get up, what will prevent me from doing the same?”

I nuzzle into her, briefly burying my face between her shoulder blades before doing so in her hair. Her scent has mixed with mine, underlining the cherry blossom and spice shampoo she uses. I let out a content sigh. “I ain’t going nowhere.”

Not until she’s better.

And even afterwards I’ll remain at her side.

I’ll stay.

Have to.

Because she’s my mate.

My responsibility.

My anchor.