#oh gosh this got so much longer than i meant it to be oops

[bonjour-rainycity]

Late in the Night | Part Two

Previous Part

Pairing: One-sided ( or is it ;) ) Legolas x Female Reader

Rating: G

Word count: 1416

Warnings: None

A/n Okay friends, oops. I wrote the first chapter in the first person and suddenly decided that I want to do the rest of it in the third. This is why I usually outline my fics but this one I wrote on a whim — whoops! Sorry about that. Maybe one day I’ll go back and fix it, but for now I’ll just leave it as is. And also, I’m taking a lot of setting and characterization liberties with this story because it’s just something I want to have fun with rather than extensively plan out. Hope you don’t mind :)

Legolas’ POV

Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid.

As he walks, Legolas berates himself, and as he berates himself, he continues to walk.

Because really, there’s no break from either.

He replays the moment from the night before over and over in his head and just can’t work it out. Something he said seemed to have damaged his relationship with Y/n. She was still friendly to him, but distant. Something he did or said or a facial expression he made, maybe, seemed to take all the warmth from their interactions, the warmth that she usually reserved just for him.

Or, he thought she did.

Maybe he was reading too much into things. Maybe there was never any special look just for him, or a softness in her voice when she said his name only, or a light in her eyes when he made her laugh. Maybe he was completely wrong, and they weren’t teetering on the edge of something more than friends.

Doesn’t she know that elves take things extremely seriously, and he wouldn’t have offered to bring her home with him, introduce her to his father and his people, and help her build a life in his homeland if he didn’t….if he didn’t….

But it doesn’t matter, he grumbles inwardly. Because it’s obvious she doesn’t feel the same way. She must have realized the gravity of what it meant when I offered, and is now trying to tell me she doesn’t want that.

But even as his head tries to convince him to let her go, to let the tenderness he feels for her fade away, his eyes find hers. She notices his gaze, and raises a questioning eyebrow. It’s accompanied by a kind smile, but that’s the smile she gives everyone. Foolishly—possessively—immaturely, he wishes to see his smile again.

He tears his eyes from hers, trying to pull himself out of his own head. Instead, he turns his focus to his senses, exploring the area around them, doing his part to keep his companions safe. After all, it’s nearly sunset, and as the light fades, so does the eyesight of many. His ears pick up on something far in the distance, and he jogs to catch up with Aragorn.

“Are you sure about this?”

Aragorn falls into step with his friend. “I have considered the risk extensively, and there is no avoiding it. We need to resupply, and I fear not only for morale but for physical health if we don’t all get a proper meal and rest safe from the elements. Besides, it’s a sizable but remote human village, quite isolated from the rest of the world. By the time news of our presence travels, we will be long gone on an alternate path.”

Legolas nods, accepting his wise friend’s assessment. Even to him, the idea of an actual rest holds great appeal — he can’t even imagine the pull it will have for his friends.

Eventually, the others begin to notice that, rather than going in a wide berth around the rising smoke that hints at a town, they head straight for it. Legolas can physically feel their excitement, and can’t stop from feeling a bit giddy himself.

Aragorn calls for a halt in the woods near the town’s gate, and the group gathers close. They are still concealed, and Legolas wonders if Aragorn has changed his mind, if he’s going to make them go back?

But thankfully, Aragorn has no such intentions. In fact, he has a very different sort of plan.

“Right,” he starts, fixing them all with a level stare. “We cannot enter all ten of us at once, that would be too conspicuous. Instead, we shall go in smaller groups that still make strategic sense. There is to be no interaction between the groups, except for pleasantries that you would exchange with anyone else. We will take staggered entrances and leave the same way, meeting up tomorrow morning a mile west. I know this town, and it has two small inns — we will split ourselves between them. Gandalf and I will go first to the inn on the West side of town. After half an hour has passed, Frodo, Sam, Pippin, Merry — you all will join us. Shortly after I leave, so shall Boromir and Gimli, but to the inn on the East side. After a good amount of time has passed, Legolas and Y/n, you join them.”

The companions grin, finding excitement in Aragorn’s game of deception, but Legolas feels a sense of unease grow in his stomach. He has not been alone with Y/n since last night, and a tension has obviously arisen between them. He turns his head to find Y/n avoiding his gaze, but she does not protest to Aragorn’s grouping of them, so neither does he. Perhaps their time alone will give them the chance to sort out whatever he’s done to upset her.

As decided, Aragorn and Gandalf leave first, followed closely by Boromir and Gimli. Y/n sits on the ground chatting quietly with Pippin and Merry, while Legolas joins Sam to guard Frodo, as they know Aragorn would want them to do. When enough time has passed for the hobbits to leave, Y/n waves them goodbye, wishing them sweet dreams in a warm bed.

The silence of the night that Legolas had become so accustomed to is marred by the harsh nosies of the human town. It doesn’t seem to bother Y/n, who raises herself from the ground and peeks curiously through the trees. “You know, it’s the first time in months we’ve all slept apart from each other.” Legolas finds himself perplexed as Y/n shakes her head, rolling her eyes. “Gosh, I sound so codependent.”

But Legolas just smiles, knowing well the sort of bond that forms between those who fight together. “No, I understand. It will be strange. But it might be nice to have a room all to yourself. None of Gimli’s snoring to worry about.”

Y/n snorts, crossing her arms and regarding Legolas with the smile he had been aching to see all day.

But as quickly as it appears, it fades from her face, replaced with a contemplative set in her brow. She looks conflicted, but he can’t for the life of him figure out why. She doesn’t take her eyes from his, and he’s too captivated to look away. Legolas takes a step forward, the darkness and her eyes and just her calling to him, asking him to come closer. Is he imagining the spark of hope in her eyes? Valar, he prays not.

Somehow, he finds himself standing right in front of her, when just seconds ago he’d been at least a yard away. Y/n tilts her head up to look at him, and the way the moon sparkles in her eyes and lights the soft curve of her cheek — he feels his hand raise, he wanted to brush his fingers and see if it’s as smooth as it looks. He wants to hold her in his arms, and beg her to forgive him for whatever wrong he committed that kept her warmth from him that day.

Y/n worries her bottom lip, still looking up at him with those wide, guarded eyes. He sees something shift in them, and knows a decision had been made, but what?

“Legolas, I need to—”

Crack!

Legolas has his bow nocked and whirls around before he even has time to fully register the sound.

He notices the squeak of hinges that accompanies the sharp smack of the wood, and lowers his bow, feeling startled still, despite the innocent nature of the noise.

“It’s alright,” he mutters to Y/n, who has only just pulled her knives from their scabbards. Absently, he feels worry for his human friend, who, with the slow reflexes that are a fault of her kin, could have already been killed, had the threat been serious. “It’s just the gate.”

“Oh.” She blinks, and puts her weapons away somewhat stiffly. “We should go, shouldn’t we? No sense in standing around in the dark longer than necessary.”

Legolas turns his head back to her, and knows the moment has passed. The certainty he saw before has vanished, and the wall between them risen again.

He returns his bow to his back, trying to ignore the crushing disappointment he feels. “Right. After you.” He waves her forward, and they start on the path to the gate.

A/n So now we’ve got a look into Legolas’ head! What did you think? Likes, comments, and reblogs make me so so happy, and let me know if you would like a tag :) 

Masterlist

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Tag list: @angelic-kisses13 @lainphotography @anangelwhodidntfall

[motherjoel]

in case (spencer reid x reader)

summary: you and spencer are each others forever, and spencer vowed to make this christmas your best yet.

a/n: the yard sale scene is based off of that moment in the office between michael and holly lol, i just thought it was so cute. also i am just so excited for christmas even though its months away so im sorry in advance. let me know what yall think!

wc: 3.1k

-

The LaMontagne-Jareau household was having their annual yard sale and as they do every year, they invited the team to sell anything they didn’t want anymore. You and Spencer had just moved in together a few weeks ago after dating for a year and you definitely had some things that you could get rid of, so you jumped at the opportunity to clean house. As you were packing some of your knick knacks into boxes, you noticed your boyfriend sitting in front of your shared bookshelf, closely examining its contents and placing the books into two piles. His brow furrowed when he placed another book into the smaller of the two stacks. You set down the lamp you were holding and walked over to a frustrated Spencer.

“You know Spence, you really don’t have to get rid of any of your books. I promise, I don’t need the shelf space,” you chuckled before examining the piles.

“I know, I just feel bad that you can't put any of your books up there. Besides, I’ve read everything anyway,” he said with a frustrated sigh. You patted him on the back before sorting through his “sell” pile. Picking up one of the hardcover books, you noticed it was one of your favorites. 

“‘The Complete Tales and Poems of Edgar Allen Poe’? You were getting rid of this?” you asked in slight shock.

“Oops, wrong pile,” he remarked, softly taking the book from your hands. “You remember the first time we read this together?” he asked, flipping his fingers through the pages. 

“Um, of course. Last year, before we were an item,” you recalled. “I was at your apartment and we ordered a pizza and opened a bottle of wine, which you proceeded to spill all over me,” you laughed, Spencer blushing profusely at the memory.

“And you were wearing white…” he trailed off.

“And I was wearing white. I know you have an eidetic memory but this must be the dirty side of it because I know full well you saw my bra through that shirt,” you nudged him teasingly.

“Hey, why do you think I asked you out in the first place?” he jokingly asked. You nudged him again and laughed. 

“So I changed into your ‘I Heart Vegas’ t-shirt and your FBI sweats and made you read to me as an apology,” you smiled, recalling the memory that you held near and dear. 

“And you’ve never looked better,” he laughed, pecking your lips. 

You set the books down and left him to his sorting, returning to your own work. Once the two of you were ready to go, you hauled the few boxes into your car and made the drive to JJ’s.

-

“My favorite lovebirds are here!” Penelope shouted, standing up from her seat on the lawn next to Morgan and making her way over to you and Spence. You gave her a quick hug.

“Hey Pen! I’m surprised to see you here, I know you’re pretty sentimental when it comes to your things,” you asked as she began to help you carry your things onto the lawn.

“Yeah, I’ve had firsthand experience with that when I accidentally knocked over her llama mug. The thing shattered and she refused to call me ‘chocolate thunder’ for days” Derek chimed in, standing to help you with the boxes.

“Okay, in my defense, I like to keep my sacred things sacred. I didn’t want my poor llama to face such violence!” she yelled, and you all laughed. “But you’re right, I’m just here to count the money,” she confessed, and you nodded. 

You all chatted about your days as you unpacked your boxes, the rest of the team showing up in the meantime. As you unpacked, you came across your old neon sign that said “boss bitch,” and you couldn’t help but laugh, drawing the attention of your friends. 

“Damn Y/N, I never pegged you as someone who’d have a sign like that,” Emily said, walking over to get a closer look.

“How come I’ve never seen that?” Spencer asked, observing the cheesy light.

“Gosh, i’ve had that since college. I found it in the back of my closet today and I don’t really have much of a use for it. I do love it though,” you remarked. Emily left you and Spencer alone after being distracted by Henry.

“You know, if you really like it, you can keep it. If there's a problem with the neon, I can take a look at it,” Spencer said, taking the sign from you.

“Oh no, it's not that. I guess it's just more meant for a ‘bachelorette’ pad,” you said.

“Oh okay. You can save it if you want, just in case,” he said softly. This got your attention as you looked up to him.

“In case? I don’t have an ‘in case’. Do you have an in case?” you asked, wondering if your boyfriend had any doubts about your move in.

“No, I don’t,” he said, as if he was just realizing how real the two of you were. He leaned down and your lips met his. You pulled away from him and continued setting up your table, a smile on your face the entire time.

-

A couple months had passed since the yard sale and you were absolutely loving the little life you had with Spencer. And as the weather got colder, it was nice to have someone to snuggle next to during the winter. Christmas was coming up and you couldn’t wait for Christmas Eve at the Rossi household. Dave had decided that this year, he would start a tradition for the team, a “night of the seven fishes,” and of course his famous Rossi pasta. Everyone was able to go- this was why you loved this team. You were all “misfits,” especially with your home life- these people had become your family and you theirs, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

You went Christmas shopping every day leading up to the fateful Rossi dinner. One of those days, Spencer came with you and the two of you had finished up pretty late- it was already dark out. Spencer offered to drive home, which was a little out of character, but you were too tired from your day that you didn’t question it. You noticed he was taking a different route then normal, however, so you decided to interject.

“My love, you’re going like the complete opposite direction of home,” you giggled.

“I know, I just thought we’d take a detour to look at the lights,” he said nervously. You just shrugged and went with it.

 You turned up the radio when you heard your favorite Christmas song start to play. Spencer began to sing along quietly, and you looked at him surprised- he never sang in front of you. He glanced at you and laughed, before continuing his serenade. You decided to join in, belting out the lyrics to Maria Carey’s “All I Want For Christmas is You,” turning to Spencer and singing to him on the “you” parts, earning a chuckle. 

After you had been driving for a bit, he stopped the car and stepped out. You didn’t recognize your surroundings, but it looked like you were in a park. It was decorated beautifully with countless Christmas lights and ornaments hanging from trees. It truly took your breath away. Before you knew it, Spencer was opening your door and offering his hand. You took it and stepped out, still in awe of your surroundings. While you were looking around, Spencer reached inside the car and cranked the radio up, just as Frank Sinatra’s “White Christmas” began to play. He walked in front of you and bowed his head, extending his hand. 

“May I have this dance?” he asked, feigning chivalry. You couldn’t help but giggle at the sight of the man in front of you, bundled in a jacket and a scarf, nose slightly red from the cold air.

“Of course, good sir,” you said with a terrible curtsy. Taking his hand, the two of you began to slow dance in the middle of the empty parking lot, snowflakes slowly falling down. 

“You’re amazing,” you told him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. 

“You missed,” he said, before leaning back down and giving you a firm kiss on the lips. You laughed into the kiss, wondering how you scored such an incredible boyfriend. You switched positions to get closer to him, your arms wrapped around his neck and his arms around your waist. You rested your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. The two of you continued to sway as the song changed to “Last Christmas” by Wham! You looked up at him again, missing his face. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I love this and I love you for this, but why are we doing this?” you asked, not wanting to ruin the moment. 

“I don’t know, actually. I had the thought when we were at the mall, that I just wanted to make this your best Christmas yet. And I know you love those cheesy Hallmark movies, so I figured this was the closest way to bring one of them to life for you,” he laughed and your heart melted. 

“Well, my previous statement still stands. You are amazing, Spencer Reid,” you told him, leaning in for another kiss. The two of you swayed for a few songs longer until you both decided that not even you could keep each other warm. The drive back to your shared apartment was pleasant as you closed your eyes, letting the Christmas music and the warm feeling of Spencer's hand on your thigh lull you to sleep.

-

“Babe can you zip me up?” you asked, putting in your earrings. Spencer adjusted his tie to his satisfaction and made his way over to you in front of the full body mirror to help you with your dress.

It was Christmas Eve and the two of you were getting dressed for the big night at the Rossi house. Spencer seemed a bit more nervous than usual, but you just chalked it up to his occasional social anxiety. Once he finished zipping you up he wrapped his arms around your midsection, kissing you on the cheek. The two of you stood, looking at your reflections, for a few moments. Spencer looked as handsome as ever in his nice sweater, and you were a show stopper in your dark red velvet mini dress. It was moments like these when you stopped to think about how lucky you are to have met him- he was your future and you were his. If only he would put a ring on it.

You pulled yourself from your loving daze and finished getting ready- Spencer was already finished so he was attached at your hip as you pulled on your heels and made some finishing touches to your makeup. 

“Ready to go?” he asked, seemingly antsy to get on the road. You giggled at his eagerness and nodded, grabbing your purse and heading out to the car.

On the drive there, you once again cranked up the Christmas music and serenaded him to All I Want For Christmas is You, which was quite a frequent play on the radio. You didn’t mind, however, because it was always a way to get him to blush. Mariah Carey had that effect on people. Before you knew it, you pulled up to the Rossi mansion. Most of the team must have been there already, as it was bustling with life and Christmas joy. The front of the house was completely decked out with lights and decorations- Dave spared no expense when it came to holiday decorating. The two of you made your way up to the door, presents in hand. Garcia was on the other end of the door, apparently a few eggnogs in.

“Oh my gosh, you guys are adorable!” she shouted. You and Spencer shared a knowing look. “Everyone, the lovebirds are here! And looking like the hottest couple since Ryan Reynolds and Blake Lively,” she gasped, taking in your dress and feeling the velvet. The confused look on Spencer’s face told you all you needed to know about his knowledge of pop culture, which was none. 

Garcia ushered the two of you inside to the living room area, where the rest of the team was settled. Everyone stood up for hugs and assisted you with carrying all of your presents to the tree, which was one of the biggest Christmas trees you had ever seen. You greeted Jack and Henry, who were playing with some toy cars under the tree. You made you way back to the team, and you noticed Spencer talking quietly to Derek and JJ- you decided to let them be and you made your way to the kitchen island to talk to Rossi as he cooked.

“Wow, everything looks so great!” you commented, observing the wide array of food along the table. 

“It better, I’ve been busting my ass for hours just so you kids could have a nice meal,” Rossi said, stirring one of the pots on the stove. You laughed at his fatherly comments as Emiy took the seat next to you.

“Don’t mind him, he’s just worried he might be on the naughty list,” Prentiss joked, finishing off her glass of wine and grabbing another bottle. 

“Hey, just because I’ve gotten a few divorces doesn’t mean i'm not a good man,” he said, pointing a jokingly accusatory finger towards Prentiss. She lifted her hands in defense and laughed. 

“I hear that,” said Derek, who had suddenly appeared in the kitchen. Spencer made his way to the chair on your other side, taking a seat. He nervously fidgeted for a bit, but when you rested a comforting hand on his thigh, his nerves seemed to calm. Soon after you poured yourself a glass of wine, Rossi announced that dinner was served. With a cheer, everyone made their way to the long table, Rossi and Hotch on both ends. You sat between Spencer and Emily, waiting to serve yourself. Once everyone was settled, Rossi stood holding his glass of wine.

“I would like to take a moment to thank you all for coming tonight. There are friends, and there is family. And, there are friends that become family. You are all my family, and I wouldn't want to spend my night of the seven fishes with anyone else. Dig in,” he toasted, and was greeted with a few “salut’s” and pats on the back. With that, you all began to serve yourselves and fill your plates and wine glasses. 

-

Once everyone was full from the delicious dinner spread, you all retired to the living room. Christmas music was playing through Rossi’s amazing sound system, and you were resting your sleepy head on Spencer's shoulder, his arm around you. It had been a perfect night, and you didn’t want it to end. As you were listening to JJ tell a story about Henry’s first Christmas, the song changed to “White Christmas” by Frank Sinatra, and you were flooded with the memory of you and Spencer dancing in the parking lot. You lifted your head from his chest and looked to see he was thinking the same thing.

“It’s our song,” you whispered with a sleepy smile. Spencer nodded and gave you a quick kiss before looking at Derek, who was mouthing “do it now!” As if it were perfect timing, JJ just finished her story and Spencer stood up, gathering the attention from the room. 

“Uh, if I could have everyone's attention, please,” he started, nervously clearing his throat. You looked up at him with stars in your eyes, and he returned it. “As many of you know, Y/N and I have been dating for awhile now, and we’ve been living together for a few months,” he began. You looked around the room and made eye contact with Derek, who shot you a wink. You returned focus to your nervous boyfriend, encouraging him with your eyes. 

“Living with her has made me realize that I don’t need an ‘in case.’ I normally always have a backup plan for when things go wrong, well, as an FBI agent that comes in handy,” he chuckled nervously. “But with Y/N, I never thought to make a backup plan. I’ve just known that she is my forever,” he turned to you. “Y/N, you are my forever, and I want to make it official- I want the world to know that you mean everything to me,” he shakily got onto one knee, earning a gasp from Garcia and a few tears from JJ. From his sweater pocket, he pulled out a tiny velvet box and opened it. You stood up, hands covering your mouth and tears welling in your eyes.

“Y/N, will you marry me?” he asked, a hopeful glint in his eyes. You were in shock. You almost forgot to answer until you heard a cough from Prentiss. 

“Yes, Spence! Yes yes of course!” you shouted, putting the ring on and he stood up as you jumped into his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist. You barely registered, the whooping cheers from the rest of the team, as everyone embraced each other. Tears were shed by most of them (Hotch tried his best to hold back). 

After a minute of spinning, Spencer let you down and you observed the ring. It was one of the most beautiful things you had ever seen. 

“I helped pick it out,” JJ told you and you pulled her into a hug and thanked her before embracing Spencer once again, a happy blush across his cheeks.

“Hey, look!” Garcia said, pointing above you and Spencer's heads. Looking up, you saw the mistletoe she was pointing at. 

“Did you know that the white berries on mistletoe are actually toxic to humans?” Spencer asked, receiving a few head shakes. You looked up at him in awe, always adoring his facts.

“Come here,” you said, pulling him down by his tie and giving him a passionate (but tasteful) kiss that was greeted with a chorus of “aww’s” and a few “ewwww’s” from Jack and Henry. You both laughed and continued to mingle with the team, showing off your rock. Spencer had made it a Christmas to remember, and you were so eternally grateful to have someone who loved you as much as you loved him.

[keiwritesstuff]

Hopeless

Ishikawa Yuki AU

Summary : When the pieces started to fall together, she knew she had no choice but to let him go.

Genre :  slice of life, angst

Notes :  long.  Self-indulgent. 3rd person POV. Not sure if I got the characterization  right. I wrote this all in one night. Not proofread, so there might be  misspelled words and grammatical errors. Based on a prompt. Best read on pc/laptop/browser (if you’re on your phone), since the layout changes when it’s read/opened on the phone tumblr app.

When did she start noticing it?

Was is sometime after their relationship reached the eighth month?

Or was it when he started showing strange signs or started doing things that were very much unlikely for him to do?

                                                         +++

Even before they started dating, when they were just friends, Yuki had always listened. Whether she’s venting, or just simply talking about how her day was; he would always, always listen.

And so, when she caught him staring into space that day, just as she was   talking about her thoughts on one of the matches she recently watched, she felt a little odd.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

He shook his head lightly. “I’m just a little bit exhausted. I stayed up watching the team’s past matches. For reference.”

She chuckled. That sounds just like him. Always finding opportunities to   improve. He never thought of anything or anyone lightly. He always believes that there is always something new to learn from everyone regardless of age and experience.

She gave him a little smile and brushed her fingers lightly against his cheek. “You’ll do well. Your teammates got your back. You know that, right?”

He nodded.

And she brushed off the odd feeling. Yuki was just being…. Yuki.

_________________________________________________________

On  their date the following week, Yuki suggested that they go to their usual place for dinner; a restaurant with tatami rooms for private dining, surrounded by luxurious green landscaping to cater to the demands of the many wealthy patrons who frequent the restaurant. She’s not used to at all, since she grew up in an ordinary, middle-class family, but the food is heavenly, and the restaurant provides a safe space for the both of them to spend some time together.

Yuki was reading the menu, seeming unsure of what he would have that evening.  He was probably being cautious of his diet, she thought.

“I think I’ll have the usual.” she spoke first while Yuki was still scanning the menu. It’s the same food that she always had every time they went to the restaurant. Yuki was the one who suggested it when he first brought her to this restaurant, and she was teased a lot by him for not wanting to try anything else other than that particular menu, to the extent where he no longer needed to ask her what she would have whenever they go to this place for a meal.

She stifled a laughter when she remembered how Yuki used to tease her all   the time about it, how he used to attempt to steal her food and cutely asked her to finish the tomatoes in his plate, and how they often argued about the secret ingredients in the menu. This restaurant held all those memories.

She was happily smiling at the thought, until Yuki asked,

“Hold on… which one is it again?”

_________________________________________________________

Two weeks.

They didn’t see each other for two weeks after that last date. Yuki had a busy schedule, filled with practice, meetings, interviews and photoshoots. It wasn’t the first time they couldn’t see each other for a long period of time.

But it was the first time that Yuki couldn’t respond to a lot of her calls.

She was probably calling at the wrong time. His schedule usually ends at 10 p.m, but he must’ve had extended meetings with his manager after that. Or he just wanted to rest. After all, not all of her calls were left unanswered. He did answer some of it. And as she suspected, he was just exhausted. Of course he was. After all, he was the team’s ace.

She understood her position. She understood his as well. This is as normal as their relationship would allow. Who he is… does not allow them to  have what other couples have. They could not have that stroll at a park under the cherry blossom trees. They could not have those cheesy movie dates. They could not even go to the beach to watch the sun set, since there is a high risk of fans and paparazzi finding him.

Regardless, she was content. She loves him, and she would go above and beyond to  make sure his career is not jeopardized by their relationship in any   way, even if it means that she could not eat sundaes on broad daylight with Yuki.

                                                           +++

[Hey, how was your day? How was practice?]

She texted him.

[It was good.]

Came his reply.

[Did you have fun? Is Takahashi still messing with you since that day you accidentally ate his bread? Haha]

He responded,

[No, not really.]

Strange. It wasn’t like him to give that kind of replies. He usually would talk a  lot, even in his texts. He would vent about how his teammates kept teasing him for being so popular, or how much he wanted to eat greasy, deep-fried food.

This time, it was really strange.

[Hey.. are you alright?]

She hit ‘send’.

Two minutes later, a reply came.

[Yeah. Just dead tired. I’ll talk to you later, okay? I’m going to bed. Good night.]

_________________________________________________________

This went on for a week more. The short replies, the unanswered calls, the brief conversations. To say that she was not upset was clearly a lie, since things weren’t like that before. And it’s not like he didn’t respond to her calls and texts AT ALL. He did. It’s just that.. it has become somehow different.

Or was she the one who became strange? Has she become… clingy? Could it just be her mind playing tricks on her? Or perhaps… this is what to be expected when one is dating a famous athlete?

Then again, beggars can’t be choosers.

She should be more understanding of his job. She should be supportive. There are things that she herself has not understood yet about how the industry works and she’s sure that Yuki already has a lot on his plate. He isn’t just an athlete. He is an ambassador, a representative, and to an extent, an idol to many.

She shouldn’t ask too much of him.

_________________________________________________________

It  was on one Friday morning where she had to call in sick after waking up in  shock, immediately running to the toilet and vomiting. She knew right away that she caught a high fever.

Has she not been taking care of her health lately? Was she stressed at work?

Overthinking?

Regardless,  with shaking hands, and with the little consciousness she had left, she left a voice message for a close friend. She had promised him that she’d join him in a co-op expedition on Monster Hunter later that night.

“Hey, Yuji.. I can’t join you tonight.. high fever.. Need to rest. Sorry.. I’ll join you some other time, okay?”

With that, she hung up, mustered as much strength as she could, pulled up the covers and fell into an uneasy sleep.

                                                         +++

She was awoken by the sound of plates being handled. Her eyes shot open.

Burglar?

Terrified,  she turned around slowly, only to breathe out a sigh of relief when she  saw the person in her house. She had forgotten that she gave him the  spare keys to her house.

“Gosh..Yuki.. You scared me..”

“Oh, hey, you’re awake.” he replied, arranging something on the kitchen counter.

“W..what  time is it? How long have I been sleeping?” her hand roamed around for  her phone. She found it and checked the time. To her surprise, she was  out cold for a good seven hours and it’s already 3 in the evening. She  groaned. Her whole body still felt heavy, but that sleep was very much  needed.

“Are you alright?”

Yuki came to her and sat next to her on the bed.

On his lap, was a bowl of soup.

She stared at the bowl, and then.. at her boyfriend.

“Did you come here and….cook?”

“Yes..?  And.. I know you’re sick and all, but how come I only found out about it from Nishida? Why didn’t you call me?” he asked out of sheer curiosity while helping her to sit up straight. She remembered the phone call this morning.  “Oh.. I told him I couldn’t join our gaming session tonight.. he needed help taking down a boss. I didn’t have much strength to call anyone after that.”

“Taking down a boss..? Is it that important? You guys are ridiculous.” he teased.

She let out a weak chuckle. “Hey, Shara Ishvalda is not ridiculous. What’s ridiculous is you, suddenly showing up in my place after God knows how long we haven’t properly talked to each other.”

She meant is as a joke, but despite the fever flowing painfully in her veins and biting painfully at her joints, she could still notice the change in his expression. Oops. Did she say something wrong?

“I understand you’re busy. I shouldn’t ask too much of you.” she added, but  Yuki was silent. The expression on his face was unreadable.

Was  he upset?  What exactly happened to him lately? Is he exhausted?   Stressed? What is he hiding from her? Was something bothering him? Was it work?

Was it guilt?

Her thoughts were cut off when Yuki handed her a spoon. “I hope it tastes okay.” he spoke.

“Well... unfortunately, my tongue is currently deprived of its senses… and therefore, I deem your soup…”

She took a sip and imitated Gordon Ramsey’s face expression as best as she could,  “…mediocre in terms of its taste.”

Her attempt to lighten up the mood worked.

Yuki was laughing softly.

Ah, there he was. Her Yuki.

The person who had made her heart pound like a  drum, the man who  often put others before him, the man who made her realize just how much she could love someone. She hasn’t seen that smile for such a long time. She missed that smile.

She missed him.

All  she could do was stare at the man in front of her. With trembling fingers, she touched his cheek. “I missed this, Yuki. I missed you.” she said meekly. He took her hand in his own, but was silent for some time before saying,

“I’m here.”

“I know you’re busy. I know people expect a lot from you. I know you tend to carry the burden all on your own. I respect that. But-- I also  want you to know that if you need any help, all of us are here for you. Me, your teammates, your family.. I want you to always remember that  you---”

Yuki’s phone on the night stand vibrated, signalling an incoming call.

Yuki immediately answered the phone call and walked towards the kitchen, where she couldn’t hear him.

It  was a short phone call. After it ended, Yuki went back to sit next to her on the bed. But this time, she could no longer form any words.

As  much as she was surprised that she was interrupted mid-conversation,   she couldn’t stop the chills that ran down her spine. Immediately, that feverish burn in her veins was replaced by something much, much more agonizing, and she could feel blood rushing to her head, trying to make sense of what she had seen.

She saw the caller ID, and she knew who it was.

She knew that name. She noticed that Yuki probably didn’t realize that she had already seen it, considering how he was trying to act normal after that phone call, but somehow… just somehow…

Everything started to fall into place. Everything started to make sense.

_________________________________________________________

Of  all Yuki’s friends and teammates, only a few had personally known her.  She had grown close to Yuji after she and Yuki started dating (especially when he found out both of them loved games), and Takahashi texts her every now and then, spilling tea about the things her boyfriend do during training, and sometimes sent her pictures of young Yuki because he absolutely loved it when she teased Yuki about it.

Masa, though, is the only one who knew her way before she met Yuki. In fact, he was the reason they met in the first place. She and Masa coincidentally shared the same social circle, and their passion and interest in volleyball and manga made them friends.

When  Masa heard her voice over the phone in all seriousness, he knew   something had definitely happened. She was not the type who talks about what happens in her relationship to others. She had always tried to resolve any conflicts on her own first. It was her way of protecting herself and Yuki.

When she had finished talking, he became silent, mainly due to shock and disbelief. Several things were running through his mind. What was Yuki doing? Has that boy lost his mind?

“Or maybe I’m the one overthinking? I’m not sure what to think of anymore, Masa.” she spoke. She wanted to believe that she was indeed overthinking. That she saw wrong. That everything happened was either just a coincidence or just Yuki feeling exhausted because of work. She wanted to believe in Yuki.

But it was hard. It was hard when the pieces just somehow…fit together.

“Hey,  I’ll try and talk to him somehow and find out what’s going on. You should try to calm down and save your worries for later, okay?” he assured her.

They  had been friends for a long time. She knew she could count on him.   Plus, Yuki had always looked up to Masa. If there is anyone in the team who could get Yuki to talk about his feelings and thoughts in all honesty, it would definitely be Masa. She trusts him.

She trusts his judgment.

She wished she didn’t.

Because four days later, she received a phone call from Masa, confirming all her worst fears.

_________________________________________________________ 

Other than the restaurant, they have another secret spot where they could meet without the prying eyes of others.

It  was at a small, empty playground on the hills. During daytime, the place would be crowded with children and the elderly who found the place suitable for walks and light jogs. At night, the playground is completely silent due to its not-so-close distance from the nearest neighborhood, and because of it’s location on the hills, the playground is a lot colder and eerier at night.

It was ideal enough for Yuki and her. They would sit on the swings and talk about many things while looking at the view from the hills. On colder nights, they would stay in his car, eating snacks and enjoy each other’s company. She was happy enough to have him next to her, healthy and smiling. She couldn’t ask for more.

This  time, however, when she looked at him as he got out of his car and   walked towards her, she knew that she will no longer be able to even ask  for anything more.

“Hey,” she started.

“Hey,” he replied the same.

No hugs. No kisses.

It had really dawned on her that everything was ending right there and then.

Where do they start?

Where do things start to end?

Can it end quickly?

It’s starting to feel really, really painful.

She looked at him. Stared at him. His eyes, that see the best in everyone.  His nose, that he loves to scrunch. His lips.. that had showered her with soft kisses. His hands... that had given her warmth for so many times.

How did things turn out this way?

But  she knew she had to do it. It had to be done. What’s the use of a having a relationship if only one of them is committed to it?

“You know I’m breaking up with you, right?”

The words unexpectedly came out smoothly. She didn’t know she could be so… composed.

Inside, however, she felt as if every inch of her was slashed with a knife.

It seemed that he had already anticipated it. She could read the expression he wore on his face.

“It’s her, isn’t it?” she asked.

He paused for some time. And lightly nodded.

She  stared at the view. The city used to look so vibrant from where they were. Now, it just looks like random lights piling on top of each other.

It’s making her dizzy.

She turned around to face the other way.

Calm down. Calm down.

“I figured it out early on.” she added.

She heard Yuki taking a deep breath. He didn’t look at her.

Guilt.

He was about to say her name, but she was quick to stop him. “No. Don’t. Don’t apologize. I don’t want to hear it. I don’t..need to hear it. I already know you’re sorry, Yuki.”

Don’t call my name. This is already hard . If you call my name, I’m not sure if I would be able to let you go.

“Instead  of saying you’re sorry… I just hope that you would treat her better.   Treat her nicely. Appreciate her. Respect her. Make things work, no matter what happens.”

Yuki stayed silent, and she continued,

“I realized that it is no use holding on to you, on this relationship, when it’s obvious that your heart is clearly with someone else.”

Breathe. It is for the best. Breathe.

“And  so, Ishikawa Yuki… I release you from this bond.” she spoke. Her lips formed a little smile, attempting to diffuse the heavy tension in the air. Yuki could only stare at her, wondering how could she stay cheerful despite  knowing what he had done. He was amazed at how calm and level-headed she  was at that moment despite the obvious pain in her voice.

“So..  you should go now. Tell her that we broke it off. Assure her, and yourself, that we ended things on good terms. And move on, Yuki. I will move on as well.”  she spoke again, giving him a light push on the shoulder.

Go. Please, just go.

“I… I can’t just leave you here.” he finally spoke.

“I won’t be here all night, silly. My car is right there, and  I have work tomorrow.” she chuckled.

Breathe. Breathe. Just… breathe.

Their eyes met for the last time, and with a strain in his voice, Yuki finally said, “Thank you. For everything.”

She forced a smile.

It  felt like an eternity. When will this end?

She smiled, almost bitterly.  “Go.” she insisted.

And he did. She watched his back as he walked away. She watched him as he got into his car. And she waved her hand lightly as he drove off.

Breathe.

However,  as soon as his car was out of sight, her knees buckled, and she knelt on the the ground. Biting her hand, she tried to stifle her cry as much as she could as she could no longer stop the tears streaming down her face.

It hurts. It hurts!

Help me. Anyone. Please. It hurts..

Please stop this pain.

How did things turn out this way? What did she do wrong? What exactly went wrong? What could’ve she done better?

Did she not love him enough?

Why couldn’t he give her his heart?

What did she do wrong?

What did she do wrong?

What did she---

“Hey.” a voice came from behind her and she looked up in shock.

“M…Masa?”

Masa read her tear-stained face as he knelt next to her. “He told me this   afternoon that he was meeting you here tonight. I told him to come clean about the whole thing.” he spoke as he took out a handkerchief and handed it to her.

“God, you’re a mess.”

“S…shut  up and let me grieve.” she managed to retort in between sobs. The tears haven’t stopped. How could they when she had held them back for so  long?

“Alright, alright.” Masa calmly spoke and sat next to her on the ground. She looked at him as if he was insane.

“C..Can’t a girl cry alone?” she stifled another cry.

“In  this place? Gosh, no. What if a couple comes here to have a good time and suddenly saw a girl crying on the ground? Good Lord, you’re going to scare the living daylights out of some poor souls. Have mercy on them, will you?”

She knew he didn’t mean it. She knew he meant well, judging from the hand on her shoulder that hasn’t left since he sat down.

She  clicked her tongue as a joke. Words have seemed to fail her by now. She  wasn’t sure what to do next. The love of her life has left her. What  will she do now? How will she move on? Can she move on to begin with?

The thought alone scared her, and she found herself sobbing uncontrollably again.

“I..loved him, Masa.. but.. it wasn’t enough…”

She  felt him pull her closer and she felt his hand gently guiding her head to lean on his shoulder. “Here, I’ll lend you my shoulder. The first 30 minutes is   free. After that, you will be charged 500 yen per minute.”

She chuckled a little, but said nothing further. She let herself cry as much as she wanted to on his shoulder, the handkerchief was no longer of use at that point. His jacket was stained by her tears, but he made no noticeable expression of discomfort. He had been such a great friend despite his mean jokes, and she appreciated his presence next to her. She wasn’t sure what she could’ve done if Masa wasn’t there. Probably something really, really stupid and reckless.

                                                   +++

She woke up the next morning in a mess. She felt horrible, her eyes were still swollen, and her head felt unbelievably heavy.

Nevertheless, she woke up.

Just then, she received text messages. They’re from Nishida and Takahashi.

[Good  morning! I heard from Masa-san that you and Yuki-san broke up. No   worries! Let’s take down another boss tonight! I’ll let you curse as   much as you want!]

[Mornin’! Hey, look at this silly photo of Nishida.]

She  looked at the photo Takahashi sent. Yuji was getting hit by a ball while he was tying his shoelace. It was a bit blurry, but Yuji’s expression was definitely silly. She chuckled.

It turned out that Masa really didn’t waste any time to spread the news. Well, it’s better if  everyone knew. It would save her from many awkward moments in the future.

And then came another text. This time, it’s from Masa.

[Oi, good morning. How are you feeling?]

She chuckled. She felt a slight warmth from the text messages.

[I feel like shit]

[Of  course you do. I would be surprised if you suddenly said you’re fine, especially after what you put my jacket through last night. I found dried snot on it this morning.]

She unexpectedly laughed out loud.

[I’ll buy you another one. Sheesh.]

She managed to smile a little more.

She still wasn’t so sure how she was going to move on, but she will take the first step.

And she got up.

[bangtan-sonyeonddaeng]

BTS Reaction: They teach you how to play an instrument

got a little carried away writing Jungkook’s heh. That one is a little longer than the others oops 😅

Namjoon (Producing)

You had asked Namjoon to teach you how to play an instrument. However he had shied away from this and told you that he really didn’t know how to and mostly just produced music and wrote songs. 

“Well can you teach me how to do that then?” He smiles at that and agrees. You find yourself in his studio, watching him explain all of the different programs and controls and you find that your head is spinning with all this information. 

“Okay, that’s about it! You got it?” You shake your head in disbelief.

“Namjoon I feel like you just explained all of this to me in a language I can’t speak. I didn’t understand anything.” He chuckles at that and pats his lap for you to sit. You blush at that but sit down anyway. He grabs your hand and guides it over the different keys and buttons, showing you what each one does rather than just explaining it and you find that you are starting to get the hang of it. He rests his chin on your shoulder and smiles at watching you try and produce different beats. His hand never leaves from where it is resting on your waist. It’s nerve wracking for you having him so close, but slowly you become more comfortable and relax into his gentle hold he has around you. 

Jin (guitar)

You were sat on the couch with him, listening to him play the guitar. It always made you feel relaxed and you found yourself wanting to learn how to play it too.

“Jin?” He stops playing and looks at you. 

“Hmm?”

“Can you teach me how to play?”

“Ah of course! I’d love to!” He places the guitar in your hands and try to copy where you saw he had placed his hands when he was playing.

“Alright so move your one finger here, and the other one just there... good now go ahead and play.” You run the pick down the strings and Jin smiles happily.

“Good! You just learned a cord. Now try to play another one.” You move your fingers around to a random position and play but realize it sounds off key and not good at all. You cringe at the sound. “Hmm, maybe move to just here instead.” He grabs your hand and positions your fingers where he thinks they should go. All the while you are blushing madly and it doesn’t sneak past Jin’s notice. “Try again.” You do and he smiles at you proudly again. 

“Is that okay?”

“Perfect! I will teach you how to play a song. And if you do a good job how about if I take you out to dinner? Just the two of us?” Your eyes widen but you nod. 

“I would really like that.”

Yoongi (piano)

You had followed Yoongi to the studio to listen to him play the piano. Every time he went you always asked if you could come, absolutely loving the sound and watching the way his fingers gracefully danced over the keys. You were watching him play when you just blurted out that you wanted him to teach you. 

“You really want me to?”

“Yes, please. I’d love to learn how to play.” Yoongi smiles and pats the bench next to him and you sit. He shows you how to play a simple melody at first. And you try to follow along with him. Yoongi watches you with a fondness on his face. You are catching on pretty quickly and it makes him feel a sense of pride. He finds your concentration face adorable and when you finish playing you look towards him and catch him staring. He quickly looks away shyly and you see a pink tinge to his cheeks. 

“Was that good?”

“Y-yeah um.. you did really well you’re a fast learner.”

“Can you teach me how to play I need u? The piano version of it that you played was really beautiful and I’d love to learn.” Yoongi’s smile widens further at that, that you want to learn one of their songs, and that he now will get to spend more time with you. It’s a double win for him.

“Of course.” 

Hoseok (recorder)

You were watching Yoongi play the piano and praising how good he was at it and Hoseok found himself feeling a little jealous. He really wasn’t skilled at playing any instruments except... 

“Hey y/n!”

“Hmm? What’s up Hobi?” 

“Did you know I can play my heart will go on with my nose on the recorder?”

“You.. what now?!” You immediately burst out laughing as Yoongi chuckles too. 

“He really can. It’s quite funny.”

“Oh my gosh I wanna hear. Please play it for me.” Hoseok runs off to grab it and then comes back. Sure enough he jumps right into it playing the song and you are laughing so much you are wheezing. When he finally finishes he bows to you which just makes you laugh even more. When you finally calm down you wipe your eyes and continue giggling. 

“Ah you have to teach me how to do that. Please oh my god.” Hoseok laughs with you. 

“I’d be happy to!” He hands you the recorder and you look at him with a blank look on your face not touching it.

“Oh.. oops. Yeah you probably want your own not the one my nose has been playing on huh?”

“Probably would be for the best, yeah.”

“How about if we go get you one tomorrow and I can teach you how to play.”

“Okay, Hobi! I can’t wait for tomorrow then.” He feels really happy that he was able to make you smile and laugh. And he is looking forward to getting to spend even more time with you.

Jimin (piano)

You and Jimin had gone out to eat dinner and you noticed the restaurant had a piano off to the side. 

“Ah, Jimin! Can we play that?”

“I don’t know let me ask, okay?” He waives your waiter over and asks if you can play the piano and he says of course. You get up excitedly, meal long forgotten as you sit down on the bench ready to play. Your hands hover over the keys and Jimin sits next to you.

“What’s the matter, jagi?” 

“I don’t know how to play anything.” Jimin giggles. 

“You were so excited to play this piano and you don’t even know how to play?”

“I can play chopsticks!” Jimin laughs even more at this and you pout. He thinks you’re adorable.

“Let me show you how to play something, okay?” You nod. Jimin grabs your hands and places them over the keys and demonstrates which notes to play. Having him sit so close to you, and touching your hands like it’s nothing is making you blush madly. You hope the dim lighting in the restaurant is dark enough that he can’t see. 

“Ah, y/n you are blushing.”

“S-so? Don’t sit so close to me.” Jimin scoots even closer until your legs are touching. 

“Why? Are you nervous, jagi?”

“Park Jimin cut it out!” You playfully push him away from you and he laughs. 

“Okay, sorry. But after I teach you how to play this I’d like to continue our date if that’s okay,”

“Date?” 

“Yeah. I mean if you want it to be that is..” 

“I think that sounds great to me. Maybe we can come back to this later after you buy me cake for dessert.” Jimin’s eyes disappear as he smiles at you. 

“Alright y/n. Whatever you want.” 

Taehyung (saxophone)

“Taehyung I literally have no idea how to play the saxophone.”

“That is why I will teach you!”

“But it seems really hard. There’s so many buttons and things that I have no idea what they do.” 

“I’ll show you y/n don’t worry.” He loops the strap around you and you stand there, lost on what to do next. “Okay so..” He grabs your hand and you immediately blush. Taehyung thankfully is so focused on showing you how to play that he doesn’t notice. “You’re going to want to put your hand here and your fingers like this. Perfect. Now blow.” You do and it seems like no matter how hard you do only the quietest sound squeaks out. Your face is turning red and Taehyung waves for you to stop. “Might have to adjust the reed hang on.” He fixes it for you and places your hands back where they need to go. “Now try.” You try again and this time a sound comes out with much less effort, although you still feel a little breathless. “Perfect!”

“I don’t think I have the lung capacity for this Tae. I already feel light headed.” You say with a chuckle. Taehyung giggles at that along with you. 

“Well we’ll just have to work on fixing that then won’t we?” He says with a smirk on his face. You blush immediately at the implication and Taehyung looks absolutely scandalized. 

“Yah! I meant by practicing you pervert! What were you thinking?!” 

“Oh my god Taehyung stop. You’re embarrassing me.” You hide your face in your hands and he immediately reaches out to pry them away from your face.

“You’re cute when you blush though. Don’t hide it okay?” 

“Okay.” 

“Now! Let me teach you the scales. And then once you get those down we can take a break for the day and I will take you out to get a hot chocolate. Sound good?” You nod and smile. “And yes I did mean on a date.” 

Jungkook (singing)

You had listened to Jungkook’s angelic vocals too many times to count. And each time you found yourself more and more wanting to learn how to sing so someday you could maybe be half as good as him. So you decided to ask him for lessons. 

“You want me to teach you?!”

“Yeah! Who better than you? You have an amazing voice Jungkook. You literally sound like an angel and make me cry because your voice is so pretty. If I could even sound half as good as you, I would be so thankful.” Jungkook feels his ears turning red at your praise and he pulls his hat down a little lower to cover them. 

“Um.. s-sure. I guess I can. I’m not a professional vocal teacher though you know.”

“I know. But I’m sure you remember enough of what they tell you right?” He nods. “And besides I’m too nervous to ask an actual vocal coach because if I am that bad I don’t want to be embarrassed or judged in front of a stranger. I trust you.” Jungkook’s heart races at that. 

“Alright. I guess first I’ll teach you the warm ups.” You both finish that lesson before he moves on. “I’ve never actually heard you sing before y/n. So why don’t you show me what you got already?” You find yourself feeling anxious. “It’s okay, remember? I’m here to support and help you. Not judge you.” You nod and go to take a breath but Jungkook stops you. 

“Ah, wait a minute. You don’t want to breathe from your chest you’re going to want to support your breath from your stomach.” He grabs your hand and places it on his stomach and he takes a deep breath. You try to focus on that but find all you can think about is the feeling of his abs underneath his t-shirt. 

“You got it? Y/n?” You snap out of your daze and nod. 

“Yeah I think so.” You try again and sing part of your favorite song that you are semi confident in your vocal skills on. When you finish Jungkook says nothing for a few moments and that worries you. 

“What the heck do you mean you need a vocal coach?! Y/n that was beautiful! I had no idea you could sing like that!” 

“You really think I sound good?”

“Good? You sound amazing. I think we just need to work on supporting and controlling your notes a little bit more because your voice cracked a little when you sang the high note. But other than it was fantastic. Really.” You blush and smile at his praise.

“Thank you, Jungkook. That means a lot coming from you.”

“Of course. Shall we take it back from the top then?” You nod, looking forward to getting to spend more time with him and hopefully be a singer he can be proud of someday. 

[mikauzoran]

Love Square: Four-Fold Blessings: Chapter Three: Marichat: Nose

Four-Fold Blessings: Chapter Three: Marichat: Nose

(I just realized that I didn’t post last week’s chapter on Tumblr. ^.^;)

“Kit Kat, hand me the gumdrops, please,” Marinette requested, rubbing at her forehead with the back of her wrist to avoid getting (even more) icing on her face.

“Right away, Princess,” Chat Noir purred, pausing in the middle of cutting out a gingerbread ninja to wipe his hands on the “I Love My Cat” apron he’d gotten Marinette the previous Christmas.

He reached across the workstation and grabbed the extra container of gumdrops, bringing them over to Marinette’s half of the table, switching out the now-empty container she’d been working out of previously.

It was a chilly Sunday afternoon, and Chat Noir was helping out in the back of Tom and Sabine’s, assisting Marinette in filling an order while Tom and Sabine kept the regular shop business running.

They were making two hundred gingerbread ninjas, and they were a little more than halfway there. Chat’s main job was rolling out the dough, cutting the cookies, and getting them into the oven. Marinette was making the dough, ensuring that the cookies came out of the oven before they burned but not before they were fully baked, and decorating the ninjas.

Chat paused to watch over Marinette’s shoulder as she drew a fierce expression on the gingerbread person’s face.

“May I do one?” he tentatively asked, fully prepared to be told that his cookie decorating abilities were not of professional quality.

He wasn’t sure why that was his kneejerk thought, why the words came out in his father’s voice in his head. Marinette certainly wouldn’t say something so mean, but…

“Sure,” she cheerfully agreed, setting down the piping bag with the white frosting and moving the gingerbread man she’d been working on aside.

She grabbed an undecorated cookie, setting it down on the table in front of him and handing him the piping bag. “Just go slow and focus on applying steady, even pressure,” she coached.

He nodded, taking a deep breath and beginning to carefully squeeze out the icing, starting with the larger aspects of the design before trying out the more intricate details.

It was going pretty well until, suddenly, it wasn’t. He squeezed a little too hard, and a giant glob of frosting squirted out onto the cookie, ruining the design.

“Oops,” he sighed, cat ears drooping. “I’m sorry. I didn’t—”

“—No worries, Chat Noir,” Marinette was quick to reassure with a forgiving smile that took away his anxiety.

She got a knife from one of the drawers and gingerly scraped off the excess frosting. “There. Now you can try again.”

He frowned uncertainly. “Are you sure? You don’t want to do it yourself? I’m not very good at this.”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “You’re not going to get better unless you practice. Don’t worry. You won’t ruin it, and we have plenty of time, plenty of icing, plenty of cookies. It’s not a big deal if you make a mistake,” she encouraged. “You’ll get it eventually.”

The cookie did, indeed, eventually get decorated in a way that was up to standards with only two more small mishaps that were quickly fixed by a scrape of the knife.

“That looks pretty good,” Marinette chuckled, making Chat’s heart fill with pride and a sense of accomplishment.

He turned to grin affectionately at her. “Thanks, Princess. Thanks for being such a patient teacher.”

“Not at all.” She gave his shoulder a playful bump with her own. “You’re a good student.”

Their eyes caught, and Marinette’s stomach flipped as she realized how close they were standing.

Chat’s lips curled into an amused smirk. “Marinette, you’ve got a little something on your face.”

She laughed mirthlessly, mentally kicking herself because he loved someone else, and she was going to give things a try with Adrien, so there was no point in letting her heartbeat quicken over Chat Noir. “That’s hardly surprising. Where?”

“Right…” he stepped in closer, angling his face.

Marinette gasped as he leaned in, her eyes sliding closed as she tipped her head up to meet him.

“…here,” he breathed, depositing a tiny brush of a kiss to her nose.

She pulled back, searching his face in confusion, still stunned at the realization of how badly she had wanted that kiss, how much her heart ached at not getting it.

But then he pulled her into his arms, his ungloved hand stroking her jaw and her neck, and she melted into him, not quite sure what he was doing, what she was doing, but just going with it because it felt right.

He nuzzled her ear and then pulled back slightly so that they could see one another’s faces. “Marinette, I’ve had feelings for you for a long time.”

She blinked. “O-Oh?”

He nodded, a nervous smile wavering on his lips. “I’d just been blinded to them by my feelings for Ladybug, but over the past few months, I’ve realized how precious you are to me. I’ve realized that you’re the one I want to be with.”

She gasped, her brain crashing and trying to reboot, trying to keep up with the words coming out of his mouth.

“I love you, Marinette, and I’d be the luckiest man in the world if you’d consent to go out with me,” he whispered.

“Oh my gosh,” she laughed, tears beginning to stream down her cheeks. “I…Chat Noir, I…I love you too.”

Somehow, that was the first thing that made sense in her tangled thoughts.

And then her pragmatic side kicked in and she shook her head. “But we can’t. This can’t work. Superhero duties. The safety of Paris comes first. I can’t be the reason all of Paris ends up underwater,” she tried to explain, but her thoughts were still fragmented and not coming out straight.

“You won’t be,” he stressed, running a hand up and down her back, making calming shushing noises. “Marinette, everything is going to be fine. Papillon will never find out about you because we’re not going to date as Marinette and Chat Noir.”

Her eyes went wide as she recalled the conversation she’d had with him as Ladybug on Friday night.

“I’m going to tell you who I really am,” he informed, voice soft and gentle and loving.

“No!” She squeezed her eyes closed, covering them with her hands so that she wouldn’t be tempted to peek. “Chat Noir, I can’t know. It’s too dangerous!”

“Shhh,” he cooed. “No, it’s not. Don’t worry, Marinette. I talked to Ladybug about this, and she gave us her blessing. We’ll be careful, and everything will be fine. I trust you.”

Those words hit her hard as they called up everything else he’d said to Ladybug about the wonderful girl he was in love with. Now, learning that he’d meant her, her cheeks began to burn, and her heart felt full.

She wanted to accept him and his love. She really did, but…

“Marinette, I’m not about to reveal my identity to you right now,” Chat reassured, carefully tugging her hands from her eyes. “And you don’t have to give me an answer about dating right this second either. We’ve still got, like, six dozen ninjas to bake. I just…”

He sighed, and she opened her eyes to see the earnest expression on his face.

“I just couldn’t not tell you I love you anymore.” He shrugged, smiling helplessly.

She pulled him back into a hug. “I don’t know, Chat Noir. I want to say yes, but…I don’t think now is the right time. I don’t want to tell you that we should wait until after Papillon is no longer a threat, but…”

“I get it,” he admitted. “Just think about it. If I love you and you love me, I don’t think we should wait, but…I was planning on confessing to you and revealing my identity tomorrow. I have a surprise planned, so…maybe once you know who I am, it’ll be easier to decide what you want to do. Imagining a future with a masked superhero is kind of tough. I know. I did that for years with Ladybug, but…maybe it will be easier once I’ve got a face and a last name to go along with the charming personality. Either way, I want you to know who I am, so…”

“Tomorrow?” she echoed, voice hoarse.

He nodded.

“I…don’t know,” she replied honestly. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to give you an answer tomorrow. It’s not just the pressure from superhero responsibilities, Chat Noir. It’s…” She grimaced, her cheeks heating up like her father’s antique bread oven. She wanted to look away, but she forced herself to meet his gaze as she explained, “You’re not the only person I love.”

His face went pale, jaw slackening. His nostrils flared, and he had to remind himself to keep breathing. “O-Oh?” he gulped. “There’s someone else?”

She nodded, ashamed at her greedy heart. “A friend of mine. I’ve been crazy about him for two years now, and I think he’s finally taken an interest in me. I need some time to mentally sort things out. I’m sorry. You deserve a better answer, an unequivocal yes. I need some time to make sure. I don’t want to tell you yes unless I’m one hundred percent certain.”

She reached up to cup his face, running her thumb across his cheek. “You are one of the sweetest, bravest, best people I know, and you deserve someone who’s completely committed to you. I love you, and I want good things for you, so I’m not sure yet if I’m what’s best for you. I do love you, but I love Adrien too, so…” She shook her head, a pained expression stuck to her face. “Give me some time, please.”

“Wait,” he nearly choked, some of the despair evaporating from his demeanor. “Adrien…Agreste? You love Adrien Agreste?”

She nodded, a little confused at the nervous energy in his voice.

“Okay,” he breathed, letting go of her and turning away so that she wouldn’t see the joy on his face. “Okay.” He schooled his expression back to neutral and turned to her once more. “All right. That’s fair. I appreciate you taking this seriously, Marinette.” He gave her a tentative smile.

“Of course,” she stressed, giving his forearm a light touch. “You’re one of my best friends, Chat Noir, and I care about you so, so much. I don’t want to end up hurting you by rushing into anything. I’m sorry that I can’t say yes right now, but I don’t want to jump the gun and screw things up.”

He nodded, giving her shoulder a pat before going back over to his workstation to cut more gingerbread ninjas out of the dough. “It’s okay,” he assured, unable to help the way his tail lashed back and forth around his feet in excitement. “It’ll probably be easier to decide tomorrow once I show you who I am behind the mask.”

She shook her head and went back to decorating ninjas. “Chat Noir, I already know who you are behind the mask. Knowing your name isn’t going to change who you are as a person. I already know you.”

His heart swelled at that, and he smiled so hard down at the dough he thought his face was going to crack in half. “I don’t know, Princess. It’s a really good name.”

She let out a snort of laughter, and it was clear that their easy friendship had survived part one of the love confession. “Oh, I’m sure it is, Chat Noir. I’m sure your parents did a better job than you did naming yourself. I mean, you literally called yourself ‘black cat’.”

“Hey,” he whined, putting on the biggest pout he could muster through laughter. “I was put on the spot, and there are plenty of anime characters called ‘Chat Noir’. Thirteen-year-old me thought it was cool. Sixteen-year-old me still thinks it’s cool.”

“Your face is cool,” Marinette snickered.

“Thanks. So’s yours,” he shot right back.

[thewritewolf]

Adrien, Agreste No Longer: Chapter 9 - Family Reunion

The rest of the Roberts and friends finally get to meet Adrien.

Enjoy!

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 (Final)

Read on Ao3

“Wow, small fry,” Skipper said and gave an appreciative nod. They’d been at it for the past couple hours, playing dozens of matches that just as often ended with Adrien winning as losing. It was a good way to pass the time as they waited for Barbie’s sisters to settle in, and for her friends to arrive from the airport. “You aren’t half bad at Mecha Strike. You’re giving me a run for my money and I made the game in the first place!” She gently punched his shoulder. “What’s your secret?”

Adrien thought back to many long hours spent fighting bots on his own, then to the ever more frequent matches he’d been playing against Marinette and her family. If you could score a win against her, you could beat anyone.

“Let’s just say I’ve got a good sparring partner,” Adrien said with a smirk.

“Well, if you’re half as good at other games as this, I’m psyched that I’ve got such a talented nephew.” Skipper leaned in to whisper. “Between you and me? The rest of the family is either no good at video games, or waaay too competitive.”

“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.”

The door to one of the guest rooms opened and Barbie’s youngest sister, Chelsea, sat down heavily on the seat next to Adrien. He couldn’t get a sense of what she was thinking as she stared at him. The silence stretched between them. Just when she was about to ask what was up, she squealed in delight. She wrapped him up in a big, tight hug.

“I’m so happy to have another model in the family! It’s not like the Barbie fashion line is struggling or anything, but it’s always super nice when one of us can really flaunt her stuff on the runway.” She narrowed her eyes at her older sister.

Skipper just rolled her eyes. “Not all of us want to be in the family business, Chels. Maybe Adrien doesn’t want to either. Did you think about that before smothering him, hm?”

“Oops! Sorry,” Chelsea said with a wince. She let go of him, looking abashed. “I get excited about these kinds of things. With Barbie doing all sorts of things, its usually down to me to keep the flagline fashion business going, you know?” She straightened up Adrien’s jacket. “But like I said, we’re doing fine so you defs don’t need to model for us if you don’t want to.”

Adrien gave her a smile and said, “Thanks. I appreciate the offer, but I think I’ll be taking some time away from modeling for now. Maybe in the future?”

“Sure, sure. But…” Chelsea put her hand on her heart and swooned dramatically against the back of the couch. “Ugh, no wonder he’s always on the front page of Teen Heart Throb Magazine. That smile! Definitely Barbie’s son.”

While Adrien was still processing that, there was a knock on the door to the hotel room.

“Come on in,” Skipper yelled, barely taking her eyes off her phone.

The door opened and Chelsea rushed over to meet the two women that came in. Adrien followed more cautiously, wondering if these were more family members that he hadn’t met before.

“Nikki, Teresa - it is my absolute pleasure to introduce you to my long lost nephew, Adrien!” Chelsea framed Adrien with her hands, as if presenting a prize.

Immediately, the redhead one of them - Teresa, he gathered - ran forward and wrapped him in a hug. “Oh my goodness, he’s just the cutest thing ever!”

“Teresa, sweetie, come on. Give the kid some space.” The other friend - Nikki - pulled her off and crouched down to Adrien’s level. Chelsea guided Teresa to the kitchen. She whispered, “Hey, Adrien. I’ve been wanting to meet you for a real long time, just like everyone else here.”

“I’m glad to meet all of you! It’s been… just an amazing time. And surreal.”

Nikki chuckled. “You aren’t wrong, sugar. It feels like only yesterday we were all consoling Barbie and Ken after you were kidnapped.” She breathed a sigh of relief. “Now you’re back home.”

“But… I haven’t left?” Well, he moved out of the mansion, but still… a hotel wasn’t a home, right?

“Home isn’t a place, sweetie,” Nikki replied. “It’s who you’re with.”

“Okay everybody!” Another voice cut in before Adrien could reply. “Gather round and let me lay down the schedule for today.”

Adrien turned to see his third aunt, Stacie. Apparently her day job was some sort of event / wedding planner. He listened while she walked them through the itinerary for the day.

“Now that we’re all here, we’re going to hit the major shops in the area.” She pulled out a map dotted with marks, likely pointing out those very shops, and slapped it on a white board that Adrien hadn’t noticed she’d set up. “Paris is considered one of the fashion capitals of the world and we are NOT letting this opportunity slip by. Any questions?” Her eyes landed on Adrien, who timidly raised his hand. “Yes?”

“Can we make a quick stop before we get started?”

----------------

With Marinette next to him, Adrien felt a lot more grounded. Not only was she someone that he knew and had known for a while now, it also meant one more person that they would all be fawning over. Maybe it was a little mean of him to bring her along for that reason, but she seemed more than happy to take some of their attention off of him.

He wasn’t sure how he felt when he saw Stacie make a little note on her clipboard - ‘A + M Wedding Prep?’ A little embarrassed, but as he saw Marinette laughing and getting along famously with his new family… Well, maybe some early preparations wouldn’t be out of place, even if a marriage was far off.

“Barbie senses… tingling,” Ken said just before disappearing into the crowd.

“Gosh, I’m so parched-” Barbie began, only for Ken to immediately offer a frappuccino. She smiled and kissed his cheek. “Thank you! You always know what I need - sometimes even before I do!” She giggled and kept walking, but the exchange stuck in Adrien’s head.

A year of fighting alongside her had given Adrien and Marinette a strong bond. Sometimes he could predict her moves just far enough ahead to put them in perfect synchronization. But would they ever reach the point that Barbie and Ken were at? Especially now that the danger was over, and they wouldn’t be expected to be fighting as superheroes so much any more. Was danger and hardship the only way that their relationship would strengthen?

A few hours later, the girls were still shopping, but Adrien had to take a seat to shake off the exhaustion in his feet. Ken took a spot beside him. Silently, Adrien struggled with how to ask what he wanted to know. Or even if he should ask at all.

“Something’s on your mind, kiddo.” Ken put a comforting hand on Adrien’s shoulder. “Why don’t you tell me what’s up? I bet it’ll make you feel better.”

“How do you do it?” Adrien blurted out. When Ken just blinked at him in confusion, Adrien gestured vaguely. “You know… that whole ‘Barbie senses’ thing. What’s the deal with it?”

“Well, when you’ve been together for as long as Barbie and I have you get a sense of what the other person is like, deep down.”

“How long have you two been together, anyway?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Ken said vaguely. “Although…” Ken’s eyes drifted over to where Barbie and Marinette were standing, comparing dresses. “...You two do seem pretty close. Maybe you can pull it off.”

“Pull what off?”

“The Sense.” Ken cleared his throat and faced Adrien, who spun around in place too. “Alright. Close your eyes.” Adrien did so. “And open your heart.” Frowning, Adrien did his best, hoping Ken wasn’t being literal. “Believe in yourself.”

After a long pause, Adrien frowned. “Is that all?”

“That’s how it starts. Dreams will come true.” Ken smiled at him. “Just wait and see. ‘Cuz the powers in you, and the powers in me.”

“...Are you sure? It sounds kinda hokey.”

Ken laughed. “That’s all love is. The best kind of hokey there is in the world.”

They sat there in a comfortable silence for a few minutes longer, Adrien reflecting on what Ken had told him. Once Adrien stood up to go back to the rest of the group, Ken stood up as well.

“...So what are we doing after this?”

“I dunno, you’d have to ask Stacie. She’s the one with the all mighty clipboard.”

“No, no,” Adrien shook his head. “I mean… after today. In a week. A month. Are we staying in Paris? Or are you taking me to the States?”

“We wouldn’t dream of taking you away from your friends, kiddo,” Ken said soothingly. “We’ll be living in Paris - at least until you’re out of school. And from now on, we’re family and family sticks together.”

[madasthesea]

three words that became hard to say (i and love and you)

Tony likes giving gifts to prove his love, but they don't usually have four paws and a tail.

AKA: Tony, Peter, and a dog named Maggie learn how to be a family.

AO3

“One more stop,” Tony tells Peter as they climb back into the car. They’re running errands, which seems so mundane it’s almost disorienting.

Peter just shrugs and doesn’t ask what it is, which is all the incentive Tony needs to turn right instead of the left they usually take to go home.

Peter is lonely, Tony had confessed to Rhodey a few days before. The compound is big and empty and quieter than any New Yorker has ever experienced, and Peter isn’t handling the transition well.

“Get a pet?” Rhodey had suggested, almost joking. Tony had blinked at him.

“Like, a dog?”

“Yeah, sure. Kid likes dogs, doesn’t he?”

Tony thinks back to two months before, when Peter had crossed paths with a dog walker and insisted on petting every one of them—‘so it’s fair,’ he’d explained—while Tony stood by and watched him with raised eyebrows.

“Yeah,” Tony had said.

“Ok, get him a dog. Man’s best friend, and all that.”

And so, here they are, pulling up outside the local animal shelter. (Tony would have gotten Peter any kind of dog he asked for, even some absurdly expensive purebred, but he knows Peter would rather adopt one. The kid is just that perfect.)

Peter blinks at the sign, eyebrows furrowing. He turns to Tony.

“You should know, I’m strongly against experimentation on animals,” he says bluntly.

“Geez, kid, you think I’m not?” Tony asks, affronted. He scoffs and gets out of the car. “That’s not why we’re here. C’mon.”

Peter follows, his face back to the completely blank mask he usually wore.

The girl at the desk balks when Tony walks in, dropping the papers she’s organizing as she stares at him and Peter.

“Um. Hi. How can I help you?” She asks, which is a fairly graceful recovery.

Tony looks straight at Peter as he says, “We were looking to adopt a dog.”

Peter blinks again, surprised, but there’s something almost impressed in his expression that tells Tony that this was a good idea.

“Great,” The girl smiles, looking between Peter and Tony like she understands something Tony doesn’t. “Do you have a specific one in mind?”

“Whichever one he wants,” Tony answers, nodding over at Peter.

The worker leads them to the back, where the dogs are kept, and begins introducing Peter to every one, telling him their names and personalities. Tony keeps a few feet back and watches Peter dutifully absorb the information. He keeps his face neutral, because he knows if Peter looks back and sees him with any sort of unhappy expression, he’ll change his mind and possibly back out of the whole thing, afraid of upsetting Tony.

They walk along the row of kennels, Peter spending a moment at each one, before pursing his lips and moving on to the next. They’re almost to the last of the dogs when Peter stops, peering into a large kennel.

“This is Maggie,” the worker informs. “She’s part Scottish Deerhound, and… we don’t know what else, really. But she’s the smartest dog you’ll ever meet.”

Peter’s mouth twitches into a smile. “She’ll fit right in,” he murmurs. The worker seems to take his reaction as a good sign, because she opens the cage and calls Maggie out. Tony’s jaw drops a little when the dog steps out. She’s a very big dog. But Peter immediately crouches down and begins scratching at her ears and grizzled nose, and Tony knows she’s the one.

“She’s perfect,” Tony tells the girl.

He’s filling out paperwork when he innocuously asks, “What are you going to name her?”

Peter looks up at him, puzzled. “She already has a name.”

“Yeah, but… Maggie?” Tony pulls a face. Peter shrugs, and looks back down to where he’s methodically petting Maggie, who’s looking at him with the canine equivalent of love at first sight.

“It’s her name. Even if the people who named her that aren’t around anymore.”

Tony swallows hard and looks away, meeting eyes with the employee and feeling uncomfortably exposed. She gazes at Tony with wide eyes before looking back at Peter.

“She’ll need a lot of space to run around,” she warns.

“That’s ok, we have plenty.” Peter probably means the nine acres of land that the compound sits on, but it makes Tony think of empty rooms.

Tony wakes up to a truncated scream. He’s out of bed and stumbling for the door practically before he registers it.

Peter’s door is ajar, the room beyond dark. Tony shoulders his way in, only to stop when the beam of light from the hallway faintly illuminates the room.

Peter is curled on the bed with Maggie laying next to him, almost concealing him, her snout buried against his sternum. Her whines are so loud they almost drown out Peter’s ragged gasping. His hands are fisted in her fur.

Tony feels incredibly out of place, and thinks he should probably leave. Any duty that he is meant to fulfil here, Maggie has beat him to, which is probably for the best.

He takes one back-peddling step before Peter lifts a hand, holding it out to Tony. Almost as if magnetically pulled, Tony crosses the room and grasps the boy’s cold fingers. He has yet to lift his face from where it’s hidden, half in his pillow and half in the dog’s bulk.

When Peter does not relent his hand, Tony sits on the edge of the bed, sinking toward the weight of the other two. They stay, the three of them, in a quasi-knot of limbs and shared heat, until Peter’s breaths even out and longer.

Peter’s eating with a distinct lack of enthusiasm, the silence nearly suffocating as it stretches on between them. Tony is poking uncomfortably at his baked potato when he sees Peter’s hand sneak under the table, where Maggie always situates herself at dinner time. Tony smirks.

“Did you just give a piece of thirty dollar steak to the dog?” He asks blandly, raising an eyebrow.

Peter freezes, snapping his head up to look at Tony, who triple checks his expression so Peter knows he’s teasing.

“Um. No, I di—wait, this cost thirty dollars?!” Peter’s jaw drops. “Oh… my gosh. Who pays that much—” He cuts himself off again, the realization that talking about spending habits to a billionaire is probably rude, or at least very ungrateful, making him blush. “I mean,” he tries instead, “thank you for dinner, Tony. This is very good.”

He’s closing in on himself again, Tony can literally see it happening, the silence creeping back up around them like shadows.

Tony shrugs in a very practiced, nonchalant manner. “We have an anniversary to celebrate.”

Peter stills, his eyes narrowing in confusion as he tries to recall what Tony is talking about.

“A year ago today,” Tony explains, not looking at Peter, “I met you.”

“Oh,” the kid says quietly. “I didn’t realize it was today.” He doesn’t say that a lot has changed, but it’s written all over his face. Tony almost regrets bringing it up, but he’s spent enough time bottling everything up to know that ignoring the past doesn’t make it easier to live with. They couldn’t just pretend that May had never existed, that there had never been a time when the two of them didn’t sit down to awkward family dinners every night.

“Yeah, well. It was an important day for me,” Tony finally admits. Maggie’s tail gently thwacks against his ankle as she wags it contentedly.

Peter looks up at him and his eyes are dark with memories of the past year, but he is almost unbearably earnest as he replies, “Me, too.” Then he applies himself to finishing his steak, occasionally slipping pieces of carrot underneath the table. The ensuing silence is full, but not heavy.

“Peter?” Tony calls, knocking on Peter’s bedroom. There is no answer, so Tony walks down the hallway toward the living room. “Peter?” Still no reply. “Fri, where’s Peter?”

“He is on the south lawn,” the AI answers. Curious, Tony makes his way outside, where he sees Peter playing fetch with Maggie. Tony stands in the shade of the porch for a few minutes, watching as Peter throws the tennis ball progressively farther. Maggie dutifully lopes after it and bounds eagerly back, depositing the ball into Peter’s hand to throw again until finally Peter throws it so far Tony completely loses sight of it. Maggie takes a few running steps, then stops, wheels around, and glares at Peter.

Peter holds his hands out innocently. Maggie is obviously not appeased, because she charges at Peter, knocking him to ground as she energetically licks his face. Tony can hear his laughter from here, echoing back across the lawn.

“Stop!” Peter giggles, pushing at Maggie’s considerable weight as she pins him. After a moment of struggle, he finally gives up and goes limp. It’s then that Tony decides to announce his presence.

“Peter,” he calls, and sees Peter tilt his head back so he can see Tony. “We’ve got to go or we’ll be late.”

“Ok,” Peter answers, and then looks back at Maggie, who’s still laying prostrate across his stomach, panting happily. “Go to Tony, girl,” he tells her in his upbeat ‘dog’ voice. Eager to obey her favorite human, Maggie stands and dashes across the grass to Tony, who kneels down and scratches her ears as Peter pulls himself up and jogs over.

“You’re covered in grass,” Tony points out, smiling up at him.

“Oops,” Peter says, looking down at himself. “Give me a minute, I’ll go change.” He disappears inside, a faint smile still on his face.

Tony looks at Maggie, who’s watching Tony with much less affection than she usually looks at Peter with, but she’s sitting still while Tony pets her, her tongue lolling past her teeth.

“Good girl,” Tony tells her. “You made him laugh.” Maggie beats her tail against the ground in acknowledgement of the praise.

It’s their first real fight, and if Tony was any calmer he would realize that this moment matters. But he’s too caught up in the previous five hours in which Peter had been unreachable.

“Dang it, Peter!” Tony snaps, slamming his hand down on the counter. Peter jumps. “You need to bloody communicate with me!” Peter opens his mouth, but Tony plows over him, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s just me and you, kid. And if we can’t freaking talk to each other, I don’t know how we’re going to make this work. You can’t just—” he looks up, his voice dies in his throat. Peter is staring at him with tear-filled eyes set wide in his pale face.

Oh, no. Had he yelled? He had. Tony had just yelled at his traumatized and emotionally scarred kid, who’s now starting to back away slowly, as if retreating from a wild animal.

“Peter,” Tony says, quietly, forcing the sound through his tight throat. Peter shakes his head wildly, and turns and runs. “Oh, shoot. Peter!” He follows him, because he can’t think clearly over the claxon sound of fix this running through his head.

He rounds the corner Peter has turned down in time to see the kid stagger into the wall, barely putting a hand out in time to catch himself. He starts sinking down, clutching at the frame of the door he didn’t quite reach as he collapses to the floor.

Tony trips haltingly forward, but Peter jerks backward, shoving himself further into the wall, nearly denting it in his frenzy to get away.

Tony stops dead, his own breathing so loud in his ears he almost doesn’t hear Peter’s quiet, “Don’t, don’t.” Slowly, his legs numb, Tony lowers himself to the ground a dozen feet away from the kid.

There’s a clatter of claws and then Maggie hurtles around the corner. She seems to take in the scene with her dark, intelligent eyes, and then she places herself like a shield in front of Peter and growls at Tony.

It’s almost relieving, really, to have someone blame him, to have someone look at him and acknowledge that he’s the worst possible thing that could have happened to a kid who deserves everything good in this world and has been orphaned twice over instead. Even if that someone is a dog.

After establishing her dominance over Tony, Maggie turns and begins whuffling at Peter, pressing her nose into his hair. Tony thinks that’s probably his cue to leave—the dog will calm Peter down, and having Tony, his trigger, there certainly isn’t helping—but then Peter’s gasping out, “No, no,” and shoving his hands into Maggie’s flank, pushing her away.

Maggie backs away, her wide eyes sad. Then she pads slowly over to Tony, who reaches out and holds on to her collar, just in case, and they both sit and wait.

It takes Peter forty-seven uneven breaths to finally pry one hand from the fabric of his own sweater and hold it out, shaking and limply curled, toward Maggie.

She bolts forward, tugging away from Tony’s loose grip without a second’s hesitation. Peter unfurls just enough to let her into his space, a messy clash of over-eager, worried hound and panic-shaken limbs, and Peter’s burying his fingers into her fur, pressing his face into her side and amidst his quiet repetitions of “Good girl” Tony can hear choked sobs.

Tony turns tail and flees.

He’s still in the lab—under one of his cars, holding his hand out impatiently, waiting for Dum-E to hand him the pliers he’d asked for nearly a minute ago—three hours later, and half hoping the car-jack holding the antique sports car up will spontaneously give out and crush him in a more physical sense than his guilt is currently doing. The cold metal of the pliers finally hits his palm, but with it comes the brush of warm skin, the pads of fingers not yet calloused over from years of work.

Tony lets the weight of the pliers slide from Peter’s hand straight to the floor, too detached from his own body to grasp at it. He slowly pushes himself out from under the car, sitting up and leaning against the undercarriage. Peter’s perched on a stool just in front of him, his face surprisingly free of evidence of tears.

They make eye contact, and all of the apologies Tony has been working on in his head for the past three hours suddenly evaporate, leaving only the myriad of self-recriminations he hasn’t bothered to silence.

“I’m sorry,” Peter says.

“No,” Tony’s immediately blurting out. “Peter, don’t apo-“

“You sounded like May.” Peter’s interruption is so unexpected and so blunt that it sucks the air out of the room, leaving Tony gaping. “Just for a second,” he continues, absently picking up a tiny screwdriver and flipping it into the air. “’It’s just me and you’… she used to say that, when we were having a hard time. And I wasn’t expecting it and hearing you say it was like…” Peter flounders for words and Tony desperately wants to interrupt but still can’t find the air to do so, because Peter’s never talked about May like this before. “It was like she was still… for just a second. And then you weren’t her and—I’m sorry.”

Tony tips his head back against the car. “Geez, kid,” he sighs, closing his eyes briefly. What is he supposed to say to that? He opens his eyes again to see Peter looking away, a resigned, shuttered grief evident in his eyes. “Come here,” Tony orders, scooting over so that Peter can sit on the floor next to him, which he does hesitantly, leaving a good foot of space between them. This will be easier, Tony thinks, if he doesn’t have to look at the kid.

“Listen, Peter… you don’t need to feel guilty for needing time. Or for having moments… like before.” Peter shifts, swallowing hard as Tony skirts around the subject of his panic attack. “And I’m sorry. For freaking you out. I didn’t… I shouldn’t have yelled.” He scoffs, rubbing at his hair fiercely for a second. “I acted just like my dad, which, as you know, is… the worst. So I’m sorry.”

Peter pulls his knees up to his chest and wraps his arms around them. “Tony, you’re allowed to tell me off when I do something wrong. I mean that’s… that’s your job now, right?” Peter isn’t looking at him, but Tony nods anyway, watching as Peter sniffs and rubs his nose with his sleeve. It’s such a childish act, it looks strange juxtaposed with the guarded, steady way Peter is staring ahead.

“I won’t yell anymore,” Tony vows, and it doesn’t matter, really, because that wasn’t the problem, but he promises it, just like he promised to stop drinking, just like he’d looked over at Peter, asleep in the passenger seat, on the drive home from the hospital and promised himself that he would do right by this kid.

“Ok,” Peter says, shrugging. He finally looks over at Tony and offers a lopsided smile. Peter doesn’t say that he’ll always answer his phone or come home on time every day, but Tony would prefer he doesn’t say anything rather than lie. Instead, he finally looks at the car they’re both leaning against. “Need help?”

They spend the next hour working on the car, until Peter starts handing Tony the wrong tools as he yawns. Maggie is waiting at the lab door as they leave, and she lopes excited circles around them as they climb the stairs, head-butting Tony’s palm until he scratches behind her ears. She follows Peter as they part ways to go to bed. Tony watches until Peter closes his door before entering his own room.

Tony hears banging from down the hall. “Peter?” he asks, but the only response he gets is another loud bang and a small yelp. “Kid?” He goes toward the sound, getting a little worried about what he’ll find.

“Hey, stop!” He hears Peter say. Now thoroughly confused, Tony approaches the hall bathroom where the sounds are coming from.

“Peter?” He calls, knocking on the door. Another thud and the distinctive noise of Peter hissing in pain.

“Ok, I’m coming in,” Tony announces, then opens the door half a second before Peter shouts “No, don’t!” Immediately their damp, soapy deerhound streaks past Tony and down the hall.

“Shoot!” Peter exclaims while attempting to lever himself out of the tub. He almost slips and Tony makes to dash forward in a vain attempt to catch him, but his sticky hand saves him before he brains himself on the faucet.

Peter finally emerges, dripping wet with soap bubbles all over his clothes and smelling like wet dog.

“I thought you had super strength. How’d she get away from you?” Tony teases, rooting through the cabinet and pulling out a couple towels, which he tosses to Peter.

“She has four legs,” Peter defends, vigorously toweling down his hair.

“Aren’t you supposed to have eight?” Tony asks blandly, raising an eyebrow.

Peter rolls his eyes as he passes. “I’ll get to work on remedying that defect in my radioactive mutation,” he deadpans before making his way down the hall, calling for Maggie and promising treats if she comes back. Tony chuckles under his breath, feeling absurdly fond considering the kid had just drenched his entire bathroom and left watery footprints all the way down the hall.

Early afternoon sunlight is pouring through the huge windows, and Maggie is stretched lazily out in one of the beams. Tony’s working on some designs while Peter reads a book for English, neither talking much, but it’s nice, being together, clean white light illuminating the large penthouse. Peaceful, even.

The wailing of an alarm cuts through the silence, making Peter cringe at the volume. Maggie jumps to her feet and starts barking at the ceiling.  

“Yeah, I get the message, Fri!” Tony shouts. The alarm dies and Peter blinks at the sudden, ringing quiet. Maggie pads over and sits protectively by Peter.

“Colonel Rhodes has called for help with a situation,” FRIDAY says, sounding slightly defensive. Tony meets Peter’s eyes where he’s curled up in the armchair, in his pajamas with his hair in disarray and Star Wars socks, and feels his stomach twist. It doesn’t matter that Peter has been sticking to the ground since May died, taking on nothing more dangerous than a bodega holdup on any given day; he’ll go if Tony asks. There isn’t a question in Tony’s mind about that.

“What, um. What’s the situation exactly?” Tony asks, his voice weaker than he would have liked.

“There are several coordinated hostage situations, the assailants appear to be using alien technology—” Tony’s blood turns to ice. Peter would never forgive him if Tony benched him and someone ended up dying because they were short handed, but he can’t drag Peter into a planned hostage situation with weapons like that, he can’t. He feels sick, and the way Peter is sitting up, staring at him with a partly hopeful, partly uncertain expression isn’t helping. “—currently taking place in Washington D.C.”

The dread is so all-encompassing, it takes a moment for the relief to cut through it. “Oh,” Tony says, surprised. “Well, D.C is…”

“Oh,” Peter echoes, sinking back into the chair a little. “I mean, I could…”

“There’s nowhere to swing around,” Tony offers, feeling a little lightheaded. “And people would wonder...”

“So, I probably shouldn’t…” Peter trails off, like he wants Tony to give him permission to be scared of taking on something this big.

“Spidey should probably sit this one out,” Tony agrees. Peter looks like he might argue, simply for the sake of arguing, but after a moment he just nods. The lack of fight in him is so unexpected it’s almost as concerning as the mission. But then again, Peter’s been more level-headed, more reserved since May died, like he was perpetually exhausted. Tony isn’t sure he’ll ever go back to the overeager, reckless kid he was before. He shakes his head and tells himself to focus.

“Fri, tell Rhodey I’ll be there in 30,” Tony says, standing. Peter stands with him, wringing his hands a little. A suit assembles itself a few feet away, open and waiting for Tony. He pauses, though, looking back at Peter.

“Um… be careful,” Peter mutters lamely.  

“Yeah,” Tony says. “I’ll see you in a couple hours.” Peter nods again and backs up. The last Tony sees of him as he flies off is Peter, looking small and slightly lost in the too big living room with Maggie standing at his side.

The mission takes longer than a couple hours, and by the time he’s flying home, all Tony really wants to do is shower and sleep. He slips through the floor-to-ceiling window FRIDAY opens for him and lands with a heavy thud. Half a second later, before he even has time to fully step out of the suit, Peter’s skidding around the corner, Maggie at his heels.

Tony blinks as the kid comes to a dead stop on the other side of the room. Maggie stops too, orbiting Peter like a rather large moon. It occurs to Tony suddenly that he should have called when he was done, let Peter know he was ok. Peter’s intently looking him up and down, the familiar crease between his eyebrows easing slightly when he sees no visible damage.

“Hey, kiddo,” Tony breathes, feeling uncomfortable with the attention like he hasn’t in years. Peter blinks like he’s coming back to himself, and the strained atmosphere eases slightly.

“How’d it go?” Peter asks, as if he hadn’t watched all the news coverage. Tony had considered, as he flew to D.C., ordering FRIDAY to prevent Peter from watching it, on the off chance something went wrong, but he knew Peter would have just hacked through his security, and been pissed about it, if he had.

“Fine. We caught them all, only a few minor injuries,” Tony reports, meandering further into the room.

“Oh, good,” Peter says. They lapse into silence, and it’s awkward like it hasn’t been in weeks. Tony’s about to excuse himself to go to bed when Peter blurts out, “I made dinner. If you’re hungry.”

He really isn’t, but something about the thought of Peter bustling around the kitchen, preparing a meal for when Tony got back from his mission makes him say, “Starving,” before he can think about it.

Peter smiles and begins leading the way to the kitchen. Maggie follows at his heels, and Tony amends his mental picture of Peter cooking to add the huge dog, dutifully tailing him the entire time Tony was gone.

It’s stir fry and rice, and it’s still warm, to the point where Peter must have asked FRIDAY when he would be home. They stand at the island instead of sitting at the table as they eat, Maggie circling them both, nudging at their legs in hopes of food. They don’t talk much, just quietly chewing in the low overhead lights of the kitchen, the rest of the apartment dark. It gives Tony time to look around the kitchen, which has, since he left this afternoon, been thoroughly scrubbed.

Tony glances back at Peter, who keeps leaving his meal for a moment to put away the leftovers or scrub the pan. It’s not surprising; Peter’s a nervous fidgeter, and a nervous talker, and a nervous pacer. It makes sense that May would have harnessed all that excess energy and channeled it into nervous cleaning too. It makes him feel guilty though, thinking about Peter mopping to distract himself from the fact that Tony, the only… guardian he had left was away on a potentially dangerous mission.

“Thanks for dinner, Pete,” Tony says, breaking the quiet. Peter looks up from his almost empty bowl and shrugs.

“I’m always starving when I get done Spider-Manning, so I thought you would be, too.”

Tony smiles at him, which he returns, a full smile rather than one of his little half-grimace things he tries to pass off as smiles. Tony finishes his portion, surprised at how hungry he actually had been. When he does finally make it to bed, he falls asleep almost instantly.  

“Peter wanted me to inform you that he went on a run,” FRIDAY tells Tony as he steps out of the shower. Tony frowns, because it’s 7:30 on a Sunday morning and the kid should, ideally, still be asleep. He’s pretty sure Peter has had insomnia since he moved in, but he never answers honestly when Tony asks him about it.

Tony dresses and goes into the kitchen, preparing an actual breakfast this morning, figuring a super metabolism plus exercise would mean one very hungry teenager when Peter came back. Sure enough, just as Tony’s taking the fried eggs off the stove, Peter enters, Maggie at his heels.

“Good morning,” Tony greets, a little wary, but Peter seems to have outrun whatever demon woke him so early, because he echoes the salutation brightly.

“That smells amazing,” Peter says, collapsing onto a chair at the table, still a little out of breath and sweaty.

“Well, luckily for you, I made enough to feed the most ravenous of spider-mutants,” Tony jokes, setting a full plate in front of the teen, who thanks him before tucking in. Tony also refills Maggie’s water bowl and gets a face full of dog saliva in return.

“Good run?” Tony asks, taking his designated seat across from Peter.

Peter nods and swallows. “Yeah, I went about four miles.” Tony blinks, a little surprised at how low the number is. Peter must notice his confusion, because he adds, “I had to slow down for the senior citizen over there.” He gestures at Maggie, who’s practically passed out on the kitchen rug, and then grins.

Peter still smiles, not as often as he used to, and they’re usually soft, reserved things with no teeth, but he still smiles. He doesn’t grin anymore, not since May died. This wide, honest, teasing expression is a new phenomenon in the Stark-Parker household, and while Tony doesn’t like to wax poetic, he thinks that it is honestly more beautiful than the sunrise after a hurricane.

Tony smiles back without deciding to do so, helpless in the face of Peter’s honest happiness.

Peter’s sick. He’d spent the night coughing and feverish, and when he’d stumbled out of his room that morning, Tony had pressed his palm to Peter’s forehead and immediately declared that he wasn’t going to school. Peter hadn’t even tried to argue, which told Tony all he needed to know about how terrible he was feeling.

Now, after Tony had practically force fed him toast and orange juice, Peter’s shuffling toward the couch, fresh from a steam shower to clear out his lungs and dosed up with nearly three-times the recommended amount of cold medicine to counteract his metabolism. He’ll be asleep in the next fifteen minutes, guaranteed, but Tony still humors him when Peter blearily asks him to turn on a movie, sounding like a much younger kid.

Tony plops down on the couch next to where Peter is sitting, staring listlessly ahead, and basically turns on the first movie he sees. Sure enough, by the time the title is flashing up on the screen, Peter’s chin is dipping toward his chest, his eyes fluttering as he half-heartedly tries to stay awake.

Tony watches him for another minute as Peter finally drifts off, and he really should lay the kid down on the couch and then go work on one of the myriad things he needs to do. But he thinks of Peter waking up alone and ill and groggy and how his neck will ache if he’s stays like that, and instead reaches out and tugs the kid against his side, so his head is pillowed on Tony’s shoulder.

“Fri, turn the volume down please,” Tony murmurs, and the TV quiets to where Tony almost can’t hear it. Peter shifts until his too-warm nose is pressed into Tony’s pulse point, his shoulder digging into Tony’s bicep.

This is the closest they’ve been in months—four months and sixteen days to be exact, since Tony had spent the entirety of May’s funeral with his arm around Peter’s shoulders for fear that the boy’s knees would give out. Peter smells faintly of shampoo and fever sweat. Tony breathes slowly, focusing probably an absurd amount on not moving too much.

It occurs to him, all at once like an epiphany, that nothing is wrong. Tony’s arm is starting to fall asleep and Peter is sick, but for the first time in possibly years, Tony’s head is in this moment only and nothing is wrong.

Acting on some instinct that he’s been violently oppressing for an unknowable number of weeks, Tony ducks his head and presses a kiss to Peter’s damp hair. He rests his forehead against Peter for a long moment, eyes closed, before kissing him again and raising his head.

Peter is still asleep, and Tony looks forward, content with letting the moment pass unheeded, but as he glances toward where Maggie is sprawled on the rug, she meets his eye. She’s watching him with that unsettlingly intelligent look she sometimes gets, that gives Tony the impression that she understands everything that’s going on around her. She blinks at him.

“What?” Tony whispers at her, and then immediately feels ridiculous for doing so. Maggie doesn’t answer, of course, but she does clamber to her feet and pad over to the couch. Instead of going to Peter, as she always has before, the dog drapes herself on the cushion next to Tony. She lays her massive head on his knee in what feels startlingly like approval.    

He scratches at her ears a few times and she nudges his wrist with her nose before closing her eyes. Peter’s slightly congested breathing is steady against Tony’s throat. There’s a swelling warmth in Tony’s chest. Nothing is wrong.

His bedroom door opens and Tony’s awake instantly, hand on his watch to call a suit. But he freezes when he sees Peter silhouetted against the dark, Maggie whining low in her throat as she tugs Peter into the room by his shirt hem.

Tony barely has time to sit up before Peter’s practically collapsing onto the bed. The lights come on, courtesy of FRIDAY, but Peter whimpers and Tony tells her to turn them off again.

“Peter, talk to me. What’s wrong?” Tony asks, his mind whirling while his heart pounds, fear increasing when Peter doesn’t immediately answer. He reaches out to grasp the kid’s shoulder, but he flinches back and Tony jerks his hands away. Maggie whines again where she’s pacing, distressed, by Tony’s bed.

“I can’t—” Peter coughs out. “I can’t breathe.” He’s gasping, clenching and unclenching his hands around Tony’s covers. That, combined with his desire to not be touched and the time of night is all Tony needs to put the pieces together.

“Ok,” Tony soothes. “Ok, Peter, you’re having a panic attack.” He tries to keep his voice steady, but honestly, seeing his kid like this is almost enough to send Tony into an anxiety attack of his own. But right now he has to help Peter, and he can’t do both.

“I know,” Peter says, his voice cracking before he’s bending over, nearly choking as he tries to pull in enough air.

“Fri, open the windows,” Tony orders. He reaches out again, but stops himself short of brushing Peter’s cheek. The windows slide open and a cool breeze swirls into the room. Peter gulps down lung-fulls of fresh air like he’d been suffocating.

“There you go.” Tony has to practically sit on his hands to keep from touching Peter. “You’re doing great, Pete. Now slow your breathing or you’ll pass out, alright?”

Peter’s eyes are trained on Tony through the dark. He sucks in a breath and holds it for the shortest count of three before he’s letting it out all at once and pulling in another. In the dim moonlight, Tony can see tears shimmering in Peter’s eyes. The next exhale sounds more like a sob than it should and then Peter’s dropping his forehead onto the covers, making a strangled noise of frustration or maybe fear.

“Hey, look at me,” Tony instructs softly, leaning forward. Peter raises his head, still panting heavily. “It’s alright. This is scary, I know. Just focus on breathing. Nothing else matters.”

It takes Peter a while to calm down, and by the time his breaths are deep enough that Tony isn’t worried about him losing consciousness, they’re both shivering from the cold air seeping through the still open windows. Maggie hasn’t stopped frantically patrolling around the bed, quiet growls and whines occasionally interrupting the sound of Peter’s breathing.

Peter’s gaze has been locked onto Tony’s for the past several minutes, like an anchor. Because of that, Tony can see the second Peter’s expression shifts from panic to heartbreak. Tony doesn’t know what sparked Peter’s panic attack, but he’s sure it has to do with May or Ben, or maybe even his parents, because his eyes are suddenly filling with tears and he looks so utterly lost.

When Peter had first moved in with Tony, Tony had been… not ready, but completely and utterly willing to be anything the kid needed. Tony’s sudden thrust into the role of Peter’s guardian had been unexpected and terrifying and raised a lot of doubts in Tony’s mind about whether he could do it, but not unwelcome. He had expected to be there for the sleepless nights and heart-wrenching breakdowns and misdirected anger and unfounded guilt, and eventually for the driving lessons and awkward first dates and last-minute study sessions. After Tony had spent the night May died sleeping on the bathroom floor with Peter, who had made himself sick with crying, he’d thought that Peter had understood that Tony was all in, nothing held back, ready to stumble his way through the adoption and everything after it.

But the morning after May’s funeral, when Tony had cautiously let himself into Peter’s room to wake him up and gently drag him out of bed, he had found Peter sitting at his desk, working diligently on the homework he’d missed. From that moment on, Peter did a pretty good job of making it clear that Tony was there to be a provider and… not much more. When Tony would pat his shoulder, Peter would give him a small smile and then step away. When Tony heard him moving around in the middle of the night and would go to check on him, he would find the door locked and FRIDAY informing him that Peter didn’t want to be disturbed. He was still kind and compassionate and emotive, just… from a distance. So Tony had done his best to respect that and took a metaphorical half-step back and watched Peter live his life as if he was Tony’s roommate, rather than his adopted son.

Tonight though, tonight when Peter has come to him for help for the first time, when Peter is looking up at him with his eyes brimming with tears while they both tremble from cold and fading adrenaline, Tony looks at this kid that he has been prepared to love from day one and thinks: Screw that.

He reaches out and touches Peter’s shoulder. He doesn’t flinch back, just stares at Tony with that same helpless expression. There’s a heartbeat, where Tony watches the first tear finally spill over, and then Peter crumples. In the next second, he’s in Tony’s arms, his forehead pressed hard against Tony’s sternum while Tony clutches at him, burying one hand in his sleep-mussed hair and wrapping the other around his shaking shoulders like a lifeline.

Peter’s weeping, and it’s the first time Tony’s really seen him cry since the funeral and it’s staggering how much it hurts. He tightens his arms to the point where it would be painful for anyone else and bows his head over Peter’s, trying to shrink the world to just the two of them, even shutting out Maggie’s concerned headbutts and nudges.

“I’ve got you,” Tony whispers. Peter’s sobs rip from his throat, shaking both of them. “I’ve got you.”

Peter eventually loosens his hold on Tony’s t-shirt, slowly going limp against his chest, utterly spent. Tony’s just figuring out how to gently shift Peter to the other side of the bed when the kid sucks in a sudden breath and tries to sit up, Tony’s arms falling away from him as he does. He’s a mess, covered in tears with his hair sticking up at odd angles.

“Um, I should…” Peter mumbles, making to back away, but he’s half asleep and exhausted, and he only succeeds in tangling himself in the covers and almost falling off the bed.

“Woah, kid,” Tony says, steadying him. Peter looks back at him shyly, and Tony takes the chance to brush away some of the tears still clinging to his cheeks. Peter’s eyebrows beetle, as if he wants to melt into the touch but won’t let himself. “You can stay here,” Tony offers, because if he knows one thing about parenting, it’s that when your kid has a nightmare (or panic attack/emotional breakdown), you let them sleep in your bed.

Peter bites his lip and almost says no, but then Maggie jumps on the bed and nearly bowls him over. Amidst watery chuckles as Peter vigorously scratches her back, he quietly murmurs, “Ok.”

Tony pulls the covers back and Peter crawls to the far side of the bed, settling in on his stomach with his face toward Tony. Maggie plops down between the two of them, half on top of Tony who groans out a wheezing laugh and shoves her off. Peter slings an arm over the dog and Tony listens as they both drift off before he, too, falls back asleep, completely at peace.

[sp4c3-0ddity]

Lightning Round

For Lance Loves Ladies Week, Day 6:  Fluff / Pining

Pairing:  Lance/Pidge

Summary:  Lance, Pidge, and teamwork

Also this ended up being lighter on pining than I originally intended. Oops??

Cross-posted to Ao3 (where you should definitely read it because it’s longer than drabble-length and also includes humorous end notes)

At seventeen years of age, Lance had long since lost count of how many crushes he had.

For Lance, a crush was a fleeting thing, a brief attraction that lived in the moment, or, really, for however long he knew the person that captured his attention. And after that, well, out of sight, out of mind.

But Lance had never earned the misfortune of crushing on a friend before.

Maybe it was the isolation, seeing only six other people regularly. Maybe the frigid recycled air of the ship was getting to his head (or heart). Maybe it was his brain (or, again, heart) seeking a distraction from a war that seemed never-ending.

Or maybe it was just Pidge.

"Why does she do that?" Lance asked Hunk one day during a much needed break from combat training. He could see Pidge out of the corner of his eye, leaning against the wall and sitting cross-legged, one hand on her ankle while the other clutched a water pouch.

"Do what?" Hunk said, following Lance's gaze. He raised an eyebrow and turned back to him.

"I don't know," said Lance, waving towards Pidge, who pouted at him when she noticed. He flushed and put his back to her. "Just...that."

"Uh..." said Hunk. "Again, what's that?"

"Just...everything!" Lance exclaimed, gesturing. "Why does she blow her hair out of her face when she's frustrated, or smirk when she's just been proven right, or ramble when she's caught off-guard, or go all starry-eyed for tech, or give us all grief for being idiots, or--"

"Whoa, whoa!" Hunk interrupted, frowning. "Who are you calling an idiot?"

Lance sighed. "Me. I'm an idiot. Do you want to know why?"

"I can't believe you'd admit to this," said Hunk, smiling. "And all because you like Pidge?"

"She just--wait, what?" Lance glared at Hunk over his own juice pouch as he sipped angrily.

"You like Pidge!" said Hunk, his voice sing-song. "Oh my gosh, it's too cute. I can't wait to tell her!"

"Don't you dare!" Lance said, grabbing Hunk's arm. "Let me suffer in silence, thank you very much."

"You're not being silent right now," Hunk pointed out reasonably.

Lance opened his mouth, a smooth retort on the tip of his tongue, but Shiro interrupted to bid them resume training.

"All right," he said, "I'm going to have you pair up for the next exercise:  short-range combatant with a long-range fighter."

Uh oh, Lance knew exactly what was coming.

"Princess, do you want to explain the game?" Shiro called up to the control booth.

Allura's voice came over the intercom. "It's simple," she said.

Lance snorted; Altean combat games were never simple.

"This one is called 'Save the Gladiator'," Allura explained. "Two of you will attempt to 'save' the gladiator from the other two. But there is an obstacle course, at the center of which is the gladiator, and you will be under fire the entire time. Cover your partner, and once you have the gladiator you will have to escape the maze without it taking damage or the other team recovering it. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Princess," they all chorused.

Lance glanced at Pidge, who was looking at him with a bemused smile on her face, then darted his eyes towards Keith; both of them were short-range fighters, which meant...

"Lance," said Shiro, jerking him from his thoughts. "You're partnered with Pidge. Hunk, you're with Keith."

Lance slumped while Hunk snickered at him. What a friend he was.

"Lance and Pidge have fifteen doboshes to rescue the gladiator from Hunk and Keith," Allura said from the booth.

"Only fifteen?!" Lance said, alarmed.

"Scared we'll beat you, Lance?" Keith asked with a smirk.

"Oh, no," Lance said quickly, recovering his usual bravado, "I'm scared it'll be too easy for us!"

To his relief and glee, Pidge was quick to take his side. "Don't worry, Keith," she said, summoning her bayard. "We'll go easy on you."

"Ooh," said Hunk.

"Hunk, whose side are you on?" Keith demanded.

"Voltron's," said Hunk, grinning sheepishly.

"All right, enough trash talk," Shiro interrupted as the gladiator appeared in the center of the training deck. "Keith and Hunk, take your positions." When they retreated towards the center where the gladiator stood, looking very much like a trussed up damsel in distress, Shiro turned to Lance and Pidge. "You'll be starting at the edge of the maze."

"Because that went so well last time," Pidge said, shooting a look at Lance.

"Keith gave me bad directions!"

"No I didn't!"

"The maze will be visible," Allura quickly interrupted before the argument could escalate. "No one will be guiding you through it, so the walls being invisible would defeat the purpose of the exercise."

"Oh, good," said Lance, relieved.

Once everyone was in position, the maze went up. "You think the walls still shock?" Lance asked Pidge.

"Only one way to find out," she said.

"All right, begin!" called Allura.

"How do you want to do this?" Pidge wondered once they were inside the maze. They both had their shields up in preparation for the drones that would doubtlessly shoot at them once they drew closer to the center.

"What do you mean?"

They continued walking until they reached the first fork. "Can we check for dead ends and obstacles with your bayard?"

Lance shifted his grip on his rifle a bit, then shot the wall. He frowned as the wall absorbed the blast with scarcely a ripple of energy. "No," he said.

"Hmm," said Pidge. "Let's split up."

"Uh, let's not," Lance said. "There's a reason Shiro mixed us up the way he did."

A drone fired a shot from above and Lance put up his shield to cover both of them, Pidge huddling closer. "Okay," he said, grumbling. He shot the drone down easily as Pidge led them down a path at random.

"Fine," she said. "We won't split up." She raised the cuff of her armor and keyed in the maze. "But we need to keep track of where we're going in case we hit a dead end."

"Oh, good," quipped Lance, "I knew there was a reason I'd rather be stuck with you than with Keith."

"Stuck?" Pidge said, sounding offended. She put her shield at the appearance of another drone, which Lance promptly demolished with a single rifle blast.

"That came out wrong," Lance admitted.

Pidge only shot him an indecipherable look before leading him down another turn. When it proved to be a dead end, they doubled back on their path, Pidge making a note on her cuff's map, but not before attracting the attention of <several> drones.

One got Pidge in the shoulder. She gasped, clutching it, while Lance dove in to cover her. "Are you okay?" he asked once he took care of the drones.

"Fine," she said. "This armor is...it's good."

"Please, those drones aren't meant to hurt us," Lance scoffed.

"Then why bother asking me if I'm okay, genius?" Pidge demanded. She grabbed his arm and they continued down the path.

"Twelve doboshes remaining!" Allura called.

Lance groaned. "Great."

"We have time," Pidge reassured him. When they got to the fork that initially messed them up, they went the other way. At the next corner, they turned inside.

"We should be approaching the center," Pidge reasoned when they were attacked by another hoard of drones.

"We haven't seen Hunk or Keith yet," Lance pointed out.

"They might be guarding the gladiator more closely," said Pidge. "It depends on what sort of strategy they've taken. But knowing Keith...and Hunk..." She trailed off and, for some reason, smirked. "This will be too easy."

"Explain," Lance said as they rounded another corner and chose another fork.

"Simple," said Pidge. "Keith is brash, he'll attack to head us off without considering he's supposed to guard the gladiator. And Hunk may be reasonable, but he's not forceful enough to convince Keith to be patient."

Lance covered her from drone attack as she recorded their progress on her map. Meanwhile, Allura warned them they were down to eight doboshes.

"We'll probably have to worry more about Hunk's blaster," Pidge added.

"Makes sense," said Lance.

"So who do you want to handle?" Pidge asked with a smirk.

"If you're right, then we can both take each of them down," said Lance, returning her smile.

Her grin widened, and Lance's heart fluttered. Why was he so <warm> suddenly?

"Got it," said Pidge. "I can trip them up with my bayard."

They had to double back from dead ends a couple more times, dodging drone fire the entire way and each taking a few painful - though not damaging - hits. Finally, the nature of the blasts changed, and sure enough Pidge could see Hunk firing at them from a distance.

"Think you can stun him from here?" Pidge asked Lance as Allura warned there were only five doboshes left.

"Yeah," said Lance, hefting his rifle and sighting down the barrel at Hunk. "But where's Keith?"

Pidge moved quickly, standing with her back to Lance's and putting up her shield. Out of the corner of his eye Lance saw her shoot the grapple on her bayard, right as a sword hilt collided with his shoulder, knocking him into Pidge.

"Okay, we screwed up," Pidge conceded from beneath him.

Lance stared up at Keith, who smiled smugly down at him. "No, no, we can still win," he said.

"Can you?" said Keith. He positioned himself between them and Hunk.

Then something occurred to Lance.

"Hey, Pidge," he said, quietly enough that he thought Keith wouldn't hear.

"What?" she said.

"We're not at the center of the maze."

Pidge stared at him, eyes wide with alarm, as she checked her map. "Oh," she said.

"Oh," Lance agreed.

"Three doboshes!" yelled Allura.

Drones attacked indiscriminately from above, forcing Keith to dodge and shield as well, which ended up being their saving grace.

"If Hunk is over there and Keith is over here," Lance said to Pidge as they took cover, "then that means the gladiator is unguarded!"

"We can still salvage this!" Pidge agreed. She grabbed Lance by the hand, tugging him in the opposite direction.

"HEY!" Keith yelled from behind them.

"Ha, suck it, Keith!" Lance called from over his shoulder. The momentary lapse in attention cost him a hit to the knee though. "Ow," he mumbled.

Pidge snickered.

Finally, they spotted the gladiator tied up in a corner. "It's likely that Hunk can make it around from the other direction," said Pidge. "Cover me." She darted forward, but Lance held her back.

"I know we're almost out of time, but we still need to be a little more cautious."

"Ideas?"

"Hmm." Lance considered. "Use your grappling hook."

"It'll still be vulnerable to drone fire."

Lance looked up, his rifle following his line of sight. "Let me worry about that."

Pidge shot her grapple towards the gladiator. The line looped around its legs, and Pidge retracted it, pulling the robot in. As if the act had attracted them, several drones appeared and Lance started shooting them down, until he noticed a few shifting their attention.

Sure enough, there was Hunk at the other end.

"Two doboshes!"

"Ah, shoot," Lance hissed. He and Hunk were both forced to fight off drones, but by then Pidge had grabbed the gladiator.

"I'll carry it and guide us," she said. "You cover."

"Got it," Lance agreed, following her back the way they came.

Keith was waiting for them at the fork, his shield up to protect himself from Lance's fire. And Lance heard footsteps behind him, signaling Hunk's arrival.

"Guess we're doing it this way," Pidge said. She handed the gladiator off to Lance before he could say anything, then shot her grapple towards Keith. He leaped back from it, but unable to avoid it, it tangled in his legs, tugging him down.

"Agh!" he yelled, trying to disentangle himself.

Pidge tugged him towards them while Lance covered her, his shield angled towards Hunk, who still approached. A drone got him in the shoulder <again>, but at this point he didn't even flinch.

Keith still struggled against Pidge's grapple line, but then Pidge said, "Trade!"

"What?" Lance said, momentarily stunned as Pidge handed him her bayard and took the gladiator back from him. She activated her shield.

Keith managed to make it to his feet, but Lance understood what Pidge wanted. He pulled Keith closer, then, straining his muscles, he spun him around and swung him into Hunk.

They went down in a pile, the drones focusing on two weaker targets and giving Lance and Pidge a break.

"Ha!" Lance said. "In your faces!"

"Escape now, boast later!" said Pidge, swapping the gladiator for her bayard again.

"Right," said Lance, right as Allura warned, "One dobosh!"

They still had to dodge the drones on their way out, but with Pidge's guidance and Lance shielding, they escaped the maze with tics to spare.

Lance dropped the gladiator and fell over, exhausted, his arms sore. Pidge took off her helmet and collapsed next to him, her forehead resting on the cooler floor.

"Time is up!" Allura said, lowering the maze's walls.

Lance watched idly as Keith and Hunk lowered their shields and dismissed their bayards, slumping dejectedly on the ground.

Shiro approached them, kneeling to be closer to their level. "Well done," he said, helping first Pidge and then Lance into sitting positions.

Pidge leaned into Lance, resting her head on his shoulder, her sweaty hair tickling his face. He smiled, and though it was a bit of an effort on his part to remain upright, he managed to reach up and ruffle her hair.

Shiro and the princess both debriefed them on their efforts - what they did well, what they could still work on - over a hearty dinner of green goo. Lance hardly paid attention, too tired and sore and hungry.

And too aware.

Pidge sat between him and Hunk, who kept shooting a snide smile in Lance's direction (in contrast to Keith, who was still put-out by their loss earlier). She had her chin propped on her hand as she listened to Shiro and Allura, a glassy look in her eyes.

When they finished, almost everyone made their way to the common room, intent on some relaxation before bed.

"Better luck next time, Keith," said Lance, smirking.

Keith rolled his eyes but didn't bother retorting, keeping his attention focused on whatever he was reading.

Hunk had busied himself with an Altean puzzle of some kind, a bunch of interlocking pieces he was supposed to disentangle. Shiro, Allura, and Coran were in the corner, talking like the adults they were. Pidge was the only one missing.

Lance, bored, decided to find her.

He tried her room first, but was not surprised when she didn't answer. Then he made his way to the Green Lion's hangar, her most frequent haunt.

"Pidge?" he called. "You in here?"

Lance smiled when he spotted her, resting at her desk with her head pillowed on her arms. He approached and knelt next to her. "Hey," he whispered, "you gonna spend the night here?"

She jerked up, startled, her hand shooting out and clocking him in the throat.

"Ow!" he said, rubbing his neck. "Is that any way to treat your training partner?"

Pidge blushed. "Sorry, Lance," she said. Then she narrowed her eyes. "You were the one who woke me up."

"Because your desk doesn't make a good bed," he pointed out. "Come on, I'll walk you to your room."

"No, I have a lot of work to do." She rubbed her eyes, nodding towards the open holoscreens displaying a mixture of Altean and Galra text.

"Uh, yeah, you've done plenty today already," Lance said, grabbing Pidge's hand.

To his surprise - and pleasure - she didn't snatch it away. Instead, she huffed and stood. "Fine," she said. "Lead the way."

"You're going to come right back after I leave you, won't you?"

Pidge glared at him, then sighed. "I hate you," she said, allowing him to lead her away from the Green Lion and out of the hangar.

"No, you don't," Lance said, laughing.

"You're right, I don't."

It was scarcely a declaration of love, but the admission nevertheless brought heat to his cheeks.

"Ah, look how far we've come," Lance teased, smiling down at her. "A year ago you resisted my friendship and avoided me and Hunk outside of the simulator, and now here we are."

Pidge yawned, but Lance thought she smiled behind the hand that hid her mouth. "You could say our relationship has progressed by lightyears," she joked.

Lance laughed, his chest warm. He turned and wrapped Pidge in his arms, his chin nestled in her hair.

She stiffened, but before he could step away, she returned his embrace, her arms around his back, her forehead pressed into his collar. "You're a good friend, Lance," she said. "I don't...I don't deserve you."

"Sure you do, Pidge," he said, rubbing her back. Something in her tone broke his heart, and he needed to reassure her.

Pidge shook her head but didn't argue. Lance thought, Now, this is the time, tell her what she means to you and that you don't deserve her.

"Pidge, I--"

"Lance, Pidge!"

Pidge turned her head but didn't move away from Lance. There was Hunk, standing in the entrance of the Green Lion's hangar.

Lance glared at him over Pidge's head, and Hunk floundered a bit, looking sheepish. "Coran made this strange Altean dessert," he said quickly and apologetically, "and he and the princess insisted we try it."

"Okay," said Pidge. She shrugged and withdrew from Lance's arms, and he instantly missed her warmth. They followed Hunk back to the common room, and Lance glanced at Pidge from the corner of his eye.

"Later," he promised her.

"Later what?" she said, confused.

Lance shrugged and grinned. "We can figure that out, you and I."

She rolled her eyes, but the smile she flashed him was everything.

[comicteaparty]

December 14th-December 20th, 2019 Creator Babble Archive

The archive for the Creator Babble chat that occurred from December 14th, 2019 to December 20th, 2019.  The chat focused on the following question:

What scene has been the most difficult for you to write due to it making you super emotional?

Capitania do Azar

Oooof!!! Gonna have to go with a very specific retirement scene and the chapter immediately after (even if the characters aren't showing emotions, I know they are there)

Phin (Heirs of the Veil)

I have some scenes ahead, that already make me tremble a little bit, but most of them are pretty far off in the future. For the scenes already there, I think the scene that was most difficult to me was one character coming out as trans to the another and I hope I captured the whole range of emotions they were going through alright.

Cronaj

There are a lot of extremely emotional scenes in Whispers of the Past (https://www.callous-whispers-of-the-past.com/), but there is one scene that comes up near the end in particular that always gets me. Without spoiling as much as possible, I will say that it involves a flashback of the death of a child. What makes this scene particularly heartbreaking is because this child is one of the only people that a particularly cold-hearted character has ever loved. In the scene, you get to watch as this seemingly strong, resolute man who seems to never express any emotion crumbles to pieces in his shock, denial, and sorrow. I cried while writing it, and I'm afraid of when I have to draw it. Like the character, I begin to feel vulnerable whenever I think about it

DanitheCarutor

I can't really say it makes me super emotional, since I'm really desensitized to a lot of stuff, but out of all the stuff in my comic so far the scene I'm working on now probably affects me the most. I'm not particularly upset by it, although I have been feeling uncomfortable while working on it, enough so that I shortened it by a page because I didn't want to go into detail and make it longer than absolutely needed. It's weird too, you think a lot of things I've worked with would have brought something up in me (Abuse, assault, discussion of suicide, body horror, self-harm.), but the current scene is very intimate and stuff like that makes me unnerved. I kinda have an issue with being close and vulnerable with people, I don't like doing it unless I can absolutely trust that person, and even then I'm still guarded on a lot of things and ready to bale if things go south. Working on a scene where that vulnerability gets exploited hits close to home. I mean, there have been a few scenes that could be considered intimate, and I'm saying it's is intense or anything? Maybe? I'm not sure how other people will take it, there may be a few who think it's fine because the subject at hand is something some people still find okay, even though it's not. It just irks me in particular.

Thinking about it, the way later on stuff involving healing will probably stir up discomfort as well, just because self-care and all that jazz is something I have trouble with personally. Forcing positive feels into yourself is hard if you've never really done it.

LadyLazuli (Phantomarine)

...I will only say, I wish I were answering this question in a few weeks. Because I'd be able to say far more then. Hoooooo boy

AntiBunny

I answered this on twitter before, but I'll say it again here. There's not even a contest. Of everything I had to write it was a foregone conclusion, with 3 years to prepare, but still the death of Mors in Nailbat. http://nailbat.antibunny.net/ I had to build this guy from the very beginning, going from a coward to a man beyond fear. He became someone who could stare down his own death if it meant saving just one person. He had a long ride, and a transformation, effectively becoming the very mask he put on. It was hard to say goodbye to him. I drew the scene and cried.

Sadly the scene its self isn't up yet. I'm in the process of reuploading my archive to a new service, so I'm letting it update daily until it reaches the ending again.

Erin Ptah (BICP 🎄 Leif & Thorn)

...I don't think any of them? For me, if a scene makes me emotional, that means I'm really invested in it -- which means I've thought about it a lot, and done a lot to build up to it, and if anything it's easier to write.

varethane

There was a planned character death in Chirault, and I didnt think it would get to me, but then I had a loss in the family just a couple of weeks beforehand and...... it did get to me, oops

There have been other scenes that gave me feelings while I was working on them, but that was probably the most intense

kayotics

That’s really tough

MJ Massey

Any time I have to take on a scene where Emily starts thinking about Amelia again...oof I just feel so bad that I did this to them

Desnik

can 'super emotional' count towards just feeling hopeless about ever pulling the scene off at all

keii4ii

^ I've definitely been there

LadyLazuli (Phantomarine)

Oh gosh same

Cap’n Lee (Flowerlark Studios)

So I can’t say that I ever got emotional over writing / drawing a scene because usually by the time I reach it, I’ve become desensitised and all I’m thinking about is the mechanical side of executing it. There are emotional scenes that are difficult to write, not because I’m getting emotional, but because I’m worrying about how to get the right feelings across without it either getting campy because it’s overdone, or losing impact because it’s underdone. I think the entirety of Chapter 8 of my comic, Ashes, was the most difficult for me to write because of how much raw emotion there was in the scenes: https://www.flowerlarkstudios.com/comic/chapter-8-take-my-hand/page-08-00/ CW: this chapter contains a battle scene, so there is blood, gore, and graphic violence!(edited)

Nutty (Court of Roses)

I agree with Lee, I've usually gone over the scene in my head enough times to try and execute it as best I can, but I gotta tell ya, sometimes drawing my poor traumatized Merlow in his most vulnerable moments can be a bit tough.

[kastillia]

i still don't understand what the deal is with these fake team skull people

so they're referred to as punk girls and punk boys

but that girl i just talked to asked me not to call her a punk girl

???????

ok i'm gonna fight these trainers and return to that """"kahuna of route 12""""

gasp! secret beach

there are so! many!! slowpokes here!!!

what are they doing!!

nothing

they're not doing a gosh darn thing

back to that first guy........... :^)

how's that!! coming from someone who's beaten two real kahunas!!!!

i'm sorry that was mean

seriously though don't throw around that title you can't just appoint yourself the kahuna that's not how it works

thanks for that thing you gave me though

i already forgot what it was

there's a fork in the road and if playing video games has told me anything, the main quest follows the main path, so i'm just gonna take a detour to this......place first

oh! there's a building here!

THERE'S ALSO A PHOTO SPOT!!

......magnetons don't get much love

but that tiny poke running across the roof does :>

SO DOES THAT ELEKID WHEN IT DOES THAT LITTLE VICTORY POSE

these are so cute i love them

into the building!

i

what

professor oak is here again

.............and he's gone

what is his deal??? is he just some otherworldly being that appears, talks at me, gives me a thing, and then says "fill that pokedex!" before disappearing again????

whatever i'm gonna go talk to this magnemite

you know what, they didn't say anything useful but at least they didn't disappEAR ON ME......PROFESSOR OAK

what does this guy have to say

oh the lights went out

thanks magnemite

oh wait i still need to evolve that meowth into a persian.............

ok back to the pokecenter to take him out of the box........actually wait no, that meowth is chilling in the hot springs island at the poke pelago

level 25........ok let's train at.... the gardens...........?

what are all these people doing here

why are they blocking the bridge

.........i mean i guess i could just go around but??? whatever i guess

nice. i won a gold nugget

wait a second

h-hey! dude! you're talking so fast you ain't even giving me a chance to answer???

team rocket???? how old are you????

oh

awww they were larping

cute

give me an option to join team skull 'cause i'll do it! i'm even dressed the part. literally everything i'm wearing is black. i am the exact opposite of lillie.

ok training training training and feeding meowth pokebeans to get that friendship up aaaaaand evolve!

...........oh

oh he looks like garfield......

i'm gonna fly back to akala for a sec

ok! i have returned with garfield

hello professor is this the persian you were looking for

oh! that's not kanto oak......i don't remember where he said he was from. the kalos region? idr

aaaaand he disappeared again

thanks

ok back to plot

AYYYY IT'S HAU!!! how did you get here did you also get a mud horse mount

IT'S! IT'S!!!!

GLADION!!!!!!!

oh no team skull are looking for nebby

hau why are you so bad at keeping secrets pffffft

DON'T WORRY GLADION I'LL PROTECT LILLIE AND NEBBY

I CAN'T SAY THE SAME FOR HAU THOUGH but he'll try probably

WAIT!! GLADION WAIT DON'T LEAVE!!! CAN WE BE FRIENDS YET?????

........he's gone :<

alright let's see what's inside that door you came out of

it's another one of those residential places!! did he change locations?? o:

.....what? these ladies are talking about someone leaving their poke behind

gladion wouldn't do that

oh there's a stufful here!

WHO LEFT THEIR POOR STUFFUL HERE ALL ALONE??? I'LL ADOPT THEM

so i guess this is like a mini town?? there aren't any shops here and the pokecenter is the next map over.......just a bunch of caravans

ohhh........a caravan park..... duh

this hiker feels like he's being watched.........

wow really

there's just an oranguru creepily staring at him from behind a caravan

oh! that's a member of team skull! he's standing guard...........actually he's squatting guard

and inside the caravan is another member of team skull! i love how we're just having a casual conversation but she's still making all those over-the-top movements

i love you guys

into the next caravan!

it's a punk!!! sorry i meant, it's a fake team skull member

he's understandably shocked that i just barged in

YEAH LET'S FIGHT

oh he doesn't want to any more........ok bye

to the pokecenter!

there's a guy that wants to trade his graveler for a haunter.......i don't......have one yet......

i have a level 10 gastly though do you want that? no? ok

my next trial is the ghost trial though so maybe i can catch a haunter for you

i can see where my next objective is but let me just.........roam around first......

here is an ace trainer

"alola?"

yes hello! oh it's a battle

oh he's sending out a sandshrew that's cool i have my leafeon up frONT OH WAIT IT'S AN ALOLAN SANDSHREW

IT'S JUST AN IGLOO WITH A FACE AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

ok ok razz you're up but omg i love it i need to catch one

i defeated the ace trainer :>

"alola..."

i'm not sure that's how you're supposed to use that word but ok

i talked to him again

"alola!"

apparently alola is the only thing he can say

there is another beach area!

there is a fisherman here who keeps talking about a strange guy in a kimono but he's not here right now......hmmmm

dang gosh it why are there all these rOCKS IN THE OCEAN WHY CAN'T MY LAPRAS BREAK THEM I WANT TO EXPLORE O:<

ok fine i'll go down this other path to that abandoned shopping facility or whatever

ooooooooooo so spoopy

oh oops that's a trainer

guess i have to look for the rest of them

oh that's one of those guide people! .......this is a trial site??? oh........ oh the ghost trial.......... at an abandoned shopping mall........... i get it

i found a fisherman!

y-yes....this fishing pole was a gift from lana.....

"maybe if i had a fishing pole made by captain lana, i would have won..."

maybe if i beat you with water pokemon, but i didn't so uhh......unlikely

um.....no.... this fishing pole is not actually lana herself.........

alright lapras, into the ocean. let's get away from this guy.

"the reason i don't ride a lapras is because i can swim faster than a lapras!"

ok?? good to know??

can i just say

i will be sorely disappointed if there are no swimmers named akihiko bc i can't help but think of that dumb meat-head every time i run into a swimmer

ok back to the flag........aether house or something idk

it's all white

there's........an oranguru at the receptionist desk???

oh hi hau

oH HI KIDS WE'RE NOT INTRUDERS IT'S NOT WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE I SWEAR

well i mean if you're gonna challenge me to a fight then i won't say no

........sorry for beating up your poke

gndfjskhfdjsk

that little girl's yungoos keeps biting hau

oh! acerola!!

didn't you go shopping with lillie??? where is she.......did she get lost again.......

OH SHE'S THE GHOST TRIAL CAPTAIN!

i guess there's a kinda ghostly vibe about her??

well i guess i'll get going

hau, you coming?

"these ankle biters are kinda growing on me. i might stick around a little longer"

ah. alright i'll be going then.

IT'S LILLIE

IT'S ALSO A TEAM SKULL GRUNT

no her bag didn't move you're just seeing things pfffft I'LL SAVE YOU LILLIE

oops i am like 12 levels higher than all the trainers around here

QUIT PICKING ON PEOPLE WHO CAN'T FIGHT BACK YA BIG BULLIES

awww she bought me gifts!! lillie you're the best ily

alright time for the ghost trial!!

.......i don't have any ghost or dark type pokes..........

well i mean i have keaton and he has crunch.......yuki told me that'd be enough, so let's get this show on the road!!

oh! the objective of this trial is to take photos! i'm good at that!! i've been practicing!!! :>

ohhh..........ohhh i see

this is very spoopy

THAT CONVEYOR BELT STARTED MOVING BY ITSELF!!!

hi gastly

i?

what??

pikachu??? what are you doing in here???

THAT TROLLEY IS MOVING!!!

helloooooo haunter

i'll be back to catch you later so i can trade you to that one guy with a graveler

........there's that pikachu again....

OH GOOD GOLLY GOSH THOSE POKE PLUSHIES ARE FLOATING!!!!!!!

heeey-

what

where are you

oh, it's gengar!

wh-what...... rotom!! don't give me an "mmhmm!" let me battle it!! dang gosh it where did it disappear to now????

ok i got it

pikachuuuu what are you doing in here it's too spoopy for the likes of youuuuu

O:

the door unlocked!

well the only logical step is to enter......

the pokefinder fired up on it's own!

alright what are we dealing with here.......

no........nope..........there's a pikachu poster.........

there ain't anything floating around here, so then........

..........................

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

OH MY GOD IT'S A MIMIKYU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

IT'S MY BABY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

aw heck i don't wanna fight it i wanna catch it........

alright, keaton! use crunch!!

wait

shouldn't that be super effective why isn't it doing an--

fdsjkghflskdjjbvhsknd

the pikachu head just falls back gndfshjdksghj

"mimikyu's disguise has been busted!"

oh my god let me have them please please please

aww i'm sorry mimikyu but it had to be done for me to complete the trial.........

i want one

trial complete!!

............and back in we go to catch some pokes :^)

[ecotone99]

[RF] God's Real Name is Lydia

I only ever heard myself just once. I thought I would try it. Everyone around me was and, at that particular time, it made sense to say something. But what I heard from myself when I tried was less words and more the excruciating sounds of struggle, like the porcine scream of climax.

My mother came rushing, as she always did, in a fit of self-importance and desperation. She said things like: “What now? What’s wrong?”

There was always something with me that wasn’t right and this was a testament to that. Even when I should have been able to make a sound like any regular human being, it was wrong. I was wrong and that seemed to transcend my body because, when they finally divorced, we were all wrong. My family was not right and that was all my fault.

She clapped her hands. “Today’s the day!”

My mother was always particularly fond of making grand gestures about how hard I had made life and how she had the power to radically transform it.

She kissed my head in a way that was intimate and distant. She set a boundary with her lips to show me she was there whilst also unconsumed.

“We’re gonna get this stuff sorted.”

She busied herself around the kitchen, sweeping crumbs into her palm and making a display with the dishcloth over the surface as though it was a performance of circus silks. I could see the way her hands were light as though magic lay at their tips. She was proud of herself. But more than that, she was excited.

“Gosh, we haven’t had a parcel like this since...gosh, I just don’t know when. I used to have parcels all the time. You wouldn’t remember. This was before I’d even had you. There would be shoes and dresses. Gosh, I had a gift for making money stretch so far. I always had something to spend it on.” She laughed to herself, the whole while her back was turned from me. “I’ve not had anything like this for, well, seventeen years now. Wow, that’s long!”

She turned and leaned back on the counter. She wore a top that had not seen the wash for years, not because it was dirty but rather because it was reserved for special occasions. It’s sat low on her chest, rimming half of her breasts and revealing the paleness of her skin. We didn’t do holidays. Or, rather, I didn’t so neither did she. Stood there in this way, she became alien to me. Her face was not the deep crater of pain it normally was. No contortions that came with black sockets and bloodshot eyes. There was powder on her face. Some of her bones glowed orange-gold. Her nails, no longer chipped, had a smooth sheen to them. Her jeans fit better than I had ever known them. In fact, I barely believed that she owned a pair.

“I suppose,” she continued, lost in thought and daydream. “That is one good thing that’s come out of all...this. Oops!” And expressive hand leapt out in front of her and hit the tea cupboard. “I’ve not been so indulgent since I’ve had you. They say minimalism is in these days.”

There was something that wanted to escape me. The memory of the first sound of my voice felt like a surfacing scar and I felt bold with it.

Fuck minimalism, I thought instead.

My mother sprang upright and for a moment I thought I might have managed to make a noise other than a squeal, but she had sensed an approaching shadow and the rap of knuckles that followed it.

“Hi.”

“Oh hi there!” My mother leaned in the doorway, almost as though she was teasing the delivery man to dare enter our quasi-hospice abode.

“Here you go.”

She grabbed the parcel from his hand like the bloodstream grabs a line of snorted cocaine.

“Why thank you! Gosh, you want to know, I’ve been waiting for this for aaaaages. Seventeen years almost!”

Through the door crease, I saw the man nod. “Ah right.”

“Yeah, you just wouldn’t believe. Do you have kids yourself?”

“Er, no.”

“Well, when you do-”

“I won’t. I can’t.” The staccato of his voice was morose. It stunk of condemnation.

“Right, well anyway...I just wanted to say, you know what? Never mind. Never mind. You have a good day and...and thanks for this. Like I said, we’ve been waiting a while.”

She closed the door and kneeled until her face was inline with my in-turned knees. “That was nice wasn’t it? Nice man. Now…” She drew her long fingers across the address label and down the cellotaped sides of the parcel with languid elegance. “Let’s have a go with this.”

*

We were meant to wait.

That would have been the first thing I said to her. We were meant to. Sally-Ann Bridges had said to wait for her. That she’d be away until Monday, but that she’d be back to help us out. She was excited for us, she was excited for me. She was trying to make me see that this device would be more than a violation of my privacy.

It was called ‘Gayze’, which was said, predictably, in the way that mean schoolboys taunted the homosexuals. Gayze. It was meant to be funny. As though machine dependency was a joke. As though you could ridicule the existence of a person based on their inability to use their own vocal chords.

For short, Sally-Ann had called it ‘The EGTD’ and she had tried a ridiculous amount of pronunciation techniques to make it sounds like a word. But, ultimately, this method was too laborious. That’s how life becomes when you have a disability; chores multiple and people have to ‘cope’. You inflict lengthiness into those who surround you. Eye Gaze Technology Device became EGTD. Multiple Sclerosis became MS. Treatment, in the form of disease modification, became DMT. ‘I love you’ became ILY on the phone or a mime in real life. I made life a way it didn’t need to be and people seemed to find it necessary to make my life more convenient.

Gayze was going to make my life easier, by exerting so much of my brain energy that I would have a one in three chance of feeling excessively tired, get more headaches than normal and develop migraines. There was a high chance I would feel faint. It was more than likely that I would become irritable and my judgement would be impaired. Easy, like she said.

“Come on!” The tablet was in mum’s hands. She was shaking it with a mild violence that would have landed her a jail sentence if she was more persistent and the object had a conscience.

“Please.”

I rolled my head away from her, which due to the curvature of the neck rest on my wheelchair, had the adverse effect of swinging it back to meet her direct eyeline. She came closer to me.

“Lydia, please.”

You might wonder how many times I had heard that phrase in my life. I didn’t. It had been at least sixty this year alone and we were only in March. It was a universal phrase and so many times had I heard it that I might have been lead to think using it was bonding. It was a phrase for the shower, for the car and for the dinner table. It was a phrase I could predict simply by the way my mother sucked the air through her teeth and pursed her lips. It was a plea and, also, a subtle prayer. God was also called Lydia.

I wanted to make that noise again and perhaps she would worry for my safety. Perhaps she would throw the whole device away and I would be left to my own thoughts.

My mother smiled and shook her head. “I knew it.”

She got off her knees and slammed the door, leaving me in the basking glow of late afternoon sunshine coming through the window pane. She had been blocking it trying to get me using the device. Now, it was mine.

*

“Steve, I told you; she won’t.”

Those words meant crisis. After the divorce, there was a niggling sense that leaving my mother with a severely disabled child was a mistake. I wasn’t under any illusions that my dad’s life had got significantly better since he got shot of us but he found it almost impossible to fully leave, in the way that cold-hearted single fathers do. Though she hated his guts, his company was welcomed by my mother. And by company, what was inferred was that he was a ear who knew a situation better than any families with normal kids would.

He could talk a lot.

“Well, screw Sally-Ann!” Mum began shouting. “I shouldn’t have to raise my child with a carer. It’s embarrassing. It’s not normal!”

I knew he would agree. It wasn’t normal and he had no idea of the half of it. But, from where I was set - in perpetual chair-bound-ness - no one was really trying to make this normal either. Most of the time, my mother’s instagram feed was an inaccurate record of my inexistence and, when the guilt got too much, I would feature - both of us snuggling. Lying down was the only way I fitted in.

“I can’t bloody well try again...But you know what will happen! She’s so stubborn...I just want, I just want…”

She began to cry and slammed the phone. She wiped my lips with a cloth and buried her head into my lap. A few moments later, she surfaced with resolve.

“Right, let’s try this again.”

She picked up the screen and held it a few feet from my face then she turned it on herself.

“Look, it’s easy.”

She winked a few times and produced a jumble of sounds. She jumped as it parroted back to her. “Ymgh,” it said.

She laughed and I smiled. “What do you think that stands for?”

YMGH. Your Mum Gets High, I thought. Your My G Homie. You’re Mad Go Home.

Of course, mum didn’t hear. She sighed. “Two can play this game, if you don’t want to speak, me neither.”

She stood up, hesitated and sat one last time. She sat in front of me, held the tablet screen in extended arms, and selected two words.

“Say. Something.”

I felt like being in one of those movies where robots use manipulation tactics to get things from you.

I didn’t do it.

This seemed funny. The silence wasn’t. Mum turned and placed the screen in my lap, breaking her vow. “Fine.”

I looked at the coloured logic of the screen. Everything was triggered from the previous. Sentences strung together through probability and an eventual understanding of the user. I blinked. I blinked five times. My mother, having walked as far as the furthest point in my peripheral vision, stopped.

“I. Know. What. You’re. Thinking.”

She ran round to me and grabbed my shoulders. Her eyes searched for something in mine.

“What did you say?”

I blinked to repeat. “I. Know. What. You’re. Thinking.”

A wetness came to her eyes. “Lydia! God!”

I blinked to repeat it one more time. She heard fully. “And what’s that?” she said.

I was silent.

“Come on, come on. Here, spell it out. Spell it.”

She came close to me holding the screen straight out. I closed my eyes. “Lydia, please. Tell me: what am I thinking?”

My eyes remained closed.

“Come on, it's a game. What am I thinking? Come on!” On the last syllable her voice went up a tone. “Lydia?”

I opened my eyes. Blink.

“You. Want. To. Know. What. I'm. Thinking.”

Her smile was so wide it became garish, with teeth spilling from her lip. “Yes. Yes that’s exactly right, darling. Tell me what it is. I want to know.”

She didn’t. She was lying. What she wanted was a daughter who would sit and help her with makeup. Whose hair she could braid and who would go for drinks with her at the Old Vincent. She wanted normal. She didn’t want my thoughts.

I blinked six times.

“I. Don't. Want. You. To. Know.”

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